


Remember When (teen-rated version)

by sconesandtextingandmurder



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Bullying, Castiel and Dean Winchester are Neighbors, DCBB 2019, Dean/Cas Big Bang Challenge, Friends to Lovers, Growing Up Together, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Suicide, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Mental Illness, Minor Charlie Bradbury/Gilda, Minor Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester, Minor Lisa Braeden/Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-17 01:20:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 67,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21045941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sconesandtextingandmurder/pseuds/sconesandtextingandmurder
Summary: Castiel Novak meets Dean Winchester in the summer of 1989 when they’re both ten years old.  Growing up in small town Kansas is as all-American as climbing trees and little league baseball, but the carefree days of childhood can’t last forever. With adolescence comes new challenges, and Cas finds himself frustrated by decisions Dean makes that he can’t understand. After a big fight junior year, they stop speaking for months, and when tragedy strikes Cas’s family, there’s only time for a quick, heartfelt goodbye before the Novaks move away.Six years later, after the death of his father, Cas takes a semester off from grad school and returns to Kansas. There he finds the woods where they used to play bulldozed into a housing development and the Winchester family similarly fractured and gone. In relaying this news to his mother, he learns Dean was keeping secrets of his own as they grew up, forced by circumstances to take on too much too young. Armed with this new information, Cas impulsively decides to drive west to find him and try to make things right.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I started this story for the 2015 DCBB and gave up because I couldn't make it work. I picked it back up again this year, determined to finish it and I got stuck again. Many, many thanks to [Superhoney](https://archiveofourown.org/users/superhoney/pseuds/superhoney) who helped me find a way to get it back on track. I'm not sure what I would have done without her calm guidance and constant support. (Also, if she'd done a shot for every plural possessive she had to fix during her beta read, she'd be dead.) 
> 
> [Blue_Morning](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_morning) consistently makes my writing better with her honest feedback and enthusiastic cheerleading. Turning over a draft to be read is that much less terrifying when I know it's going into her capable hands. 
> 
> I was beyond lucky to be claimed once again by [Whichstiel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whichstiel), who continues to astound me with her thoughtful and creative art. Working with her is an absolute joy. Our collaboration feels so easy and natural, and it's a gift I hope never to take for granted. You can get a glimpse into her fascinating process in her art masterposts on [ao3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21087458) and on [tumblr](https://whichstiel.tumblr.com/post/188439625875/rememberwhenartpost).
> 
> Thank you to Muse and Diamond for a great challenge experience!
> 
> An explicit version of this fic can be found [here.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20995007/chapters/49927631)

# 

# PART ONE (1989 - 1991)

With a clattering bang, the back door of the now-empty moving truck rolled down. A moment later, the engine started up, metal creaking as the truck slowly lurched around the corner. As it moved from the paved street to the dirt road, clouds of dust flew into the air, partially obscuring it from view. Cas watched it pull away from the window of his new bedroom. 

This new neighborhood was a lot different from the one in Illinois where he’d spent the first ten years of his life. There, closely packed houses lined both sides of the street and the bustle of traffic and people were a constant, a soundtrack he hadn’t realized he took for granted until it was gone. From his new room in Mapleton, Kansas he could see nothing but his own front yard and the woods across the street. Now that the moving truck had rumbled off, the dust clouds were settling and everything outside returned to silence. Inside, there was plenty of noise as his parents worked to unpack the multitude of boxes stacked in every room of the small house. 

A flash of movement caught his eye and he glimpsed his father, a piece of paper clutched in one hand, making his way to their station wagon. Cas knocked on the window and watched as his father turned, eyes casting around for the source of the sound until he spotted Cas. Silver hair glinting in the July sunlight, he smiled, waving broadly. Cas, leaning against the window sill, waved back. He straightened up when he heard his mother climbing the stairs. 

Naomi Novak stood in the doorway looking around. She had a kerchief tied over her greying hair to keep off the dust. This new room was about the same size as his old bedroom, but the slanting lines of the eaves made it feel smaller. “It’s like a treehouse up here,” his mother said brightly. 

Cas didn’t answer. While he knew all the reasons they moved here: his dad’s new job, a chance to get away from the city, room for his mother to have an actual garden, he missed his friends and his cousins and the way things had been. 

“How about we get your room unpacked and set up?”

Naomi let him use the box cutter to slash through packing tape until they found the box containing his bedding. It made him feel better to see his bed made up, the familiar comforter covered with planets and stars serving as a focal point in the strange lines of this new room. He flopped onto the newly made bed. “Ok, I’m done.”

Naomi laughed. “Do you like the dresser against this wall? We can move it if you like.”

“It’s good there,” he said, his face still pressed into the pillow. 

“All right. You start working on putting your clothes away while I go find the hammer so we can put up your bulletin board.” 

“Ok.” He lay there a little longer before sighing and sitting up to get to work. Glancing out the window, movement again caught his eye. A blonde woman, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, was walking down the street. Two boys were with her, a little one and one who looked to be about Cas’s age. He was carrying a plate, while the little one held a large, colorful piece of paper. Cas watched as they turned onto the walk that led from the narrow street to his house. 

“Mom!” Cas yelled, without leaving his vantage point. “Someone’s coming.”

The youngest one ran along the walk until he vanished from sight, hidden from Cas’s view by the roof of the front porch. From upstairs, he heard the doorbell ring. Then again. Then a third time. 

By the time he got to the top of the stairs, his mother had answered the door, and he peeked over the railing to watch. The blonde woman now had the small boy by the hand. 

“I’m so sorry about that, Sam gets carried away pushing buttons.” 

“Oh, it’s fine,” Naomi said, and Cas knew she’d be smiling at the little boy. “It _ is _fun to do.”

He could see the blonde woman’s answering smile. “Anyhow, we live up the street and we wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood.”

Naomi gestured to her left, to the house next door. “You live there?”

“Two houses up, actually. I’m Mary Winchester and well, you know Sam now. This is Dean.”

Sam hopped up and down one foot. “Do any kids live here?” 

“As a matter of fact…” Naomi looked over her shoulder. “Castiel!” Cas walked slowly down the stairs. With four pairs of eyes on him he suddenly preferred the quiet of his unpacked room. “I’m Naomi Novak and this is Castiel. My husband is off at the hardware store, the first trip of many, I’m sure.”

Another round of introductions happened while Cas pretended he hadn’t been spying from upstairs. Where Sam had long dark curls, Dean had light brown hair that stood up in bristly spikes, like it had been shaved not that long ago. He was wearing a Kansas City Royals t-shirt and athletic shorts. At his mother’s prompting, he stepped forward with the plate.

“I’m sure you’re busy so we won’t keep you,” Mary said. “We just wanted to stop by and bring you this.”

“It’s banana bread,” Sam told them excitedly.

Naomi smiled at Dean as she took the plate, then turned to Sam. “Did you help make this?” 

“I used the egg beater. And I smashed the bananas.” He curled one small hand into a fist and banged it up and down to demonstrate.

“I can’t wait to try it. Would you all like some?”

“Oh no, that’s for you,” Mary assured her. 

“I’d invite you in but…” Naomi trailed off, waving one hand at the disorganized mess behind her. 

Mary laughed and indicated her sons. “With these two, my house looks a lot like that on a daily basis.”

“It’s very kind of you to come by and welcome us.”

“Well, we figured you could use a break and snack.” 

“Cas, would you find a place to put this?” Cas took the plate and wove his way around the stacks of boxes to find a clear spot on the kitchen counter. By the time he came back, Naomi and Mary were deep in conversation on the front porch and Sam was crouching to look at something in the grass. Dean stood at the bottom of the three porch stairs, leaning on the railing. When Cas hesitated on the porch, Naomi caught his eye and nodded, smiling at him when he walked down toward Dean.

“How old are you?” Dean asked.

“Almost eleven,” Cas answered.

“I’ll be eleven in January,” Dean said. “I’m going into fifth grade.”

“Me too.”

“I’m going into first grade!” Sam announced proudly. Dean rolled his eyes.

“That’s cool,” Cas said. He took a step towards Sam. “What are you looking at?”

“I found a roly-poly.”

Cas crouched down next to Sam. “Where I lived in Illinois, we called them pill bugs.”

“Do you like bugs?” Before Cas could answer, Sam straightened up and ran to get the paper he’d dropped on the porch. “I made you a card!” He scurried back and held it out, then stopped, his big, hazel eyes wide with concern. “Is it too scary? My mom said it might be too scary.”

“Let me take a look.” Cas took the paper and studied it seriously, smoothing out the wrinkled corner where Sam had kept it clutched in his fist. It said “Welcome” across the top. The last two letters were a little squished together. The rest of it was covered with carefully drawn bugs and spiders, big and small. Some with four legs, some with six, some with eight. Cas counted one with eleven. They were in a rainbow of colors and a few had polka dots like lady bugs while others were spangled with stars and triangles and hearts. 

Cas glanced at Dean, who was standing behind his little brother and pretending to be terrified. He bit back a smile. “Well,” he said thoughtfully, indicating a couple of the bigger spiders that sported oversized fangs. ”These two are pretty scary but I think I’m ok.”

Sam smiled in relief. “Those are Brazilian Wandering Spiders. They’re the most poisonous spiders in the world.”

Cas pointed to the three large letters written in orange crayon. “You made this whole thing?”

“Dean wrote welcome but I did the rest.”

“He only just started making his ’S’ the right way around,” Dean offered. “And his M’s used to go on forever.”

Sam glared at him.

“I have an S in my name, too. They can be hard,” Cas said.

“Do you have A and M too?”

Cas smiled. “Just an A.”

“Dean has a A too!” Sam said, the earlier insult forgotten. 

Dean slapped himself on the forehead. “Great, we all know how to spell our names now. So, do you like baseball?”

“My dad and I like to listen to White Sox games.”

“White Sox?” Dean was horrified. “This is Kansas and we’re Royals fans!” 

Cas just looked at him. “Kansas City isn’t even in Kansas. Besides, if you moved away would you stop being a Royals fan?”

“Do you play?” Dean asked instead of answering the question.

“Sometimes my dad and I play catch.”

“I’m gonna play Little League this year,” Dean said. “My dad’s gonna coach the team.”

Sam stepped over to Cas and tugged on his shirt. “Is that your gramma?”

“Sam,” Dean hissed. “That’s rude.”

“No, that’s my mom,” Cas said. It was nowhere near the first time he’d been asked that, and he gave his stock answer. “My parents didn’t think they’d ever have kids and then they had me when my mom was forty-eight. They decided I was a miracle and that’s how I got named after an angel.” 

“Okay, boys,” Mary said, walking gracefully down the steps. “Time to get out of the Novaks’ hair.”

“Do you want to play tomorrow?” Dean asked Cas.

“Okay,” Cas said. 

“We’ll show you the woods!” Sam said before running to catch up with his mother.

Naomi put an arm around Cas’s shoulders as they watched the Winchesters walk up the street. “Let’s go have some banana bread.”

Cas kept watch the next morning and soon after breakfast he saw the family come back down the street. This time Cas had the front door open even before they had a chance to knock. 

“Mom!” he called over his shoulder, “They’re here! Can I go outside?” Naomi appeared in the doorway, a stack of plates in her hand. 

“Can we take him to the woods?” Dean asked Mary.

Naomi turned to Mary with a questioning look. Mary pointed to the wooded lot just across the street. “That’s what they call it,” she explained.

“That’s fine, then.” Naomi said.

“Stay on this side,” Mary warned. “No going down to the creek.” 

Dean ran across the street with Sam doing his best to keep up. There were no sidewalks so Cas stopped at the edge of his lawn to make sure no cars were coming down the narrow blacktop road before crossing. He heard the bang of the screen door as Mary followed Naomi inside. 

As the boys crossed, two squirrels ran in front of them, one scrambling in a circular pattern up a tree, the second one close behind. Sam laughed at their antics, while a jay announced their presence with loud, shrill cries. 

The sky stretched clear blue above them with the promise of another scorching day, but it was cooler in the woods, almost chilly, as the morning sun hadn’t yet warmed the air under the leafy branches. Thanks to a leaf collection project in his science class last year, Cas was able to identify a number of tall trees—hickory, elm, and sycamore—that dominated the space with smaller, scrubby bushes filling in underneath. Further up, almost across from Sam and Dean’s house, a small footpath extended into the distance, and through the trees Cas saw glimpses of the red bricks and dark roofs of houses that bordered the far side of the woods. Cas took in his surroundings while Sam picked up a stick and began poking it in the grass, stirring under the dry leaves that had already started to fall from the trees. 

Dean gave him the grand tour. “There was a robin’s nest in that tree last summer.” He pointed to a tree with glossy saw-toothed leaves. “And this one.” He led Cas up a small rise. “This one makes red berries and if you squish them you can use them for fake blood.” He lowered his voice as they passed a fragrant juniper, more overgrown bush than tree. “Sam always hides here when we play hide-and-seek.” He lifted a couple of boughs that grew almost to the ground, revealing a Sam-sized space beneath them. “So you have to pretend to look for him other places first or he gets mad.” He turned back downhill, crossing the footpath that led away from the street. “The creek is down there.”

“There’s salamanders there,” Sam said, the stick in one hand and a rock in the other, “and crayfish.”

Cas listened to everything intently, trying to commit it all to memory. Dean jumped in the air to snag a leaf from a branch overhead and started to carefully tear it apart along the veins while Cas looked up at the sky, then down the path, then turned to look at his own, new house across the street. “It’s nice,” he finally said. “I like it.”

Dean balled up the torn leaf pieces in his hand and threw them at Cas. They fluttered to the ground without even coming close to hitting him. “Cool,” Dean said, smiling. 

“Show him where the firework went,” Sam said.

“Oh yeah!” Dean led them to a tall white oak back where they’d first crossed into the woods. Its branches arched up and out, some shading the road and reaching toward the Novaks’ house directly across the street. “At our Fourth of July party, we were setting off fireworks and one went crazy and landed right here in this tree. It started to smoke, but my dad came over with some water and put it out. It’s hard to see, but there’s still a black mark there.” Dean pointed to the vee where the main trunk split into two divergent branches, then lifted up on his tiptoes to try and see where the errant projectile had landed. 

“It almost burned down the whole town!” Sam said.

Dean huffed out a breath. “No, it didn’t.”

Cas looked at the branch growing above his head, then he jumped and grabbed it with both hands, letting his feet swing off the ground. As Sam and Dean watched, he kicked his feet forward until they were braced against the trunk. He walked his feet up until he could wrap his ankles around the branch, leaving him hanging upside down like a sloth. Then he carefully pulled himself around until he was straddling the branch. From that position it was easy for him to swing his legs to one side and scoot sideways along the branch to the trunk. “I see it!” he called down. 

Dean leapt up to follow Cas into the tree, but Cas was slightly taller than he was and Dean’s first jump wasn’t high enough, his hands slipping on the bark before he could get a good grip. He wiped his palms on his shirt and tried again. This time his hands held, but his feet were too far from the trunk.

“Wait. Let me get out of your way,” Cas said, and Dean dropped back down to the ground, watching while Cas got to his feet and carefully made his way to the second trunk, positioning himself on a higher branch. 

Dean took a few steps closer to the trunk and tried again. This time he got his feet braced on the first try. He squirmed and shifted, until he was able to get one leg slung across the branch, then heaved himself over until he was lying face down on it, both arms wrapped around like he was hanging on for dear life. Sam looked up at him with concern. Catching his breath, Dean walked his hands back bit by bit until he’d pushed himself to a sitting position, then wriggled backwards until he was safely up against the trunk. Cas smiled down at him from his perch, his feet swinging in the air. “That’s my room,” he said, pointing to his house. His window was directly over the front porch, framed by the triangle of the roofline. “I’m not used to it so I keep hitting my head on the slanted ceiling.”

Below them, Sam jumped and jumped, trying unsuccessfully to reach the branch the bigger boys had used. “I wanna come up!” he wailed, close to tears.

Dean laughed. “Go find a baby tree.”

“It’s not fair!” Sam said, and kicked the tree. “Ow!” He hopped on one foot a few times before falling over into the grass. 

Cas looked down in concern. "Is he ok?"

"He's fine. He’s just a pain.” 

Cas scraped at some loose bark with a fingernail. “You’re lucky to have a little brother.” 

“The only people who think that are people without little brothers,” Dean assured him. 

A banging noise below had them re-focusing their attention. Sam stood at the base of the tree, smacking at it with a large branch he’d dragged over. “I’m gonna cut this tree down!” he yelled between grunting assaults. Despite Sam doing his best, Cas didn’t even feel the impact from where he sat. 

Dean ignored him, instead cupping his hands to his mouth. “Mom! _Moooooooooom!_”

A few moments later the Novaks’ front door opened and Mary came striding across the yard. When he caught sight of her, Sam dropped the branch and ran to her, crying. At the edge of the woods, Mary knelt and comforted him for a moment and then stood with hands on hips. “First of all, don’t you holler for me like that, Dean Winchester. If you need something you come down and find me. Secondly, why is your brother crying?”

“He’s bugging us. It’s not my fault he’s too little to climb the tree.”

Mary sighed. “Can you please find a way to include him for a little bit this morning? I’m trying to help Cas’s mom unpack the kitchen.”

Dean opened his mouth to argue, but Cas dove forward, catching the branch Dean was sitting on to easily swing to the ground, landing solidly on both feet. “Sure we can.” He turned to Sam. “C’mon, let’s look for caterpillars.” 

“Thank you, Cas,” Mary said, smiling sweetly at him. She raised one eyebrow at Dean before turning back to the Novaks’ house. Pretending to look for the perfect stick of his own, Cas watched as Dean hunched back over the branch he was sitting on and slowly reversed the process he’d used to climb up, dangling for a few moments in mid-air to stop his legs from swinging before dropping to the ground. Safely down, he came over to where Sam and Cas were poking through the brush, Sam exclaiming when he caught a ladybug.

Sam trotted over to Dean, the bug cupped safely in his small hands. “Dean, will you make me a bug zoo?” He turned to Cas. “Dean is the best at building things.”

Cas noticed Dean looked pleased at that, even though he tried not to smile. “Okay,” Dean said. “You’re in charge of finding the bugs. Cas, you find some good rocks and sticks.” The boys spread out to their assigned tasks, and Mary and Naomi found them there an hour later, eager to show off the finished product. 

As August played itself out in long, hot, unscheduled stretches, the boys found time to play together nearly every day. Mary insisted they let Sam join them for a little bit, but then she sent them off on their own. Together, they explored every inch of the woods. Some days they built opposing forts from which they hurled pine cones at each other in fierce battle, on others they dragged rocks and branches to dam up the sun-parched creek until the trickle backed up into a pool big enough for wading. (That project unearthed a good-sized toad which Cas caught for them to carry home to a delighted Sam.) 

But much of the time, they settled in their respective perches in the shady oak tree, talking and watching the neighborhood. Not much traffic went by, but one day a city truck rolled slowly along the dirt road, spraying oil to keep the dust down, leaving the air permeated by the smell of warm petroleum. They each claimed one of the branched trunks as their own “house” and created routes to climb up and down. Cas was the more adventurous climber and his house had three stories, the top on a branch so slim and tremulous that Dean could barely look when Cas stood on it. Cas couldn’t resist bouncing a little as he stood there because he knew it made Dean sputter. Dean’s house had four rooms, all positioned on branches that left him within easy grabbing reach of the main trunk. They each had a “bathroom” branch where they stood, back to the other boy, and peed onto the grass below. Mary put a stop to that one afternoon when she showed up unexpectedly with snacks and juice boxes to put in the bucket that hung down from a rope for just such a purpose.

Often Mary and Naomi sat on the Novaks’ front porch, watching Sam play. They made an unlikely pair, Cas thought. Mary Winchester was young and blonde and wore brightly colored tops with her jeans. Naomi favored plain, loose-fitting clothes, often wearing what she called “clam diggers” with her dirty gardening clogs. But they spent hours and hours together sitting and talking and drinking iced tea, as happy together as the boys were. 

When Mary had to go make dinner, she took Sam with her, but Dean could play until

the distinctive sound of John’s ’67 Impala announced his arrival home from work. Then Dean would climb down, calling goodbye over his shoulder to Cas so that he and his dad could practice baseball.

Dean’s love of baseball meant he didn’t limit it to time with John. Sometimes Dean convinced Cas to throw the ball back and forth in Dean’s yard. It turned out that Cas wasn’t much for throwing accuracy, but he could catch almost anything, no matter how hard or far Dean threw it. So Dean worked on making it trickier, starting by bouncing the baseball off the backboard of the basketball hoop. That morphed into a complicated game in which they scored points depending on how far back Dean was when he threw the ball, where on the backboard it hit, and where Cas stood when he caught it. Sometimes they spent more time negotiating rules than they did actually playing, but that was half the fun. If Cas stood in the grass to catch it, it was +12. If he caught it on the pavement, it was +9. If the baseball actually fell through the basket, it was −25 points. (Dean drew the line when Cas wanted to award points in increments of pi.) Once Cas ended up on the driveway for a beautiful diving catch that landed him two badly scraped elbows and one brushburned knee, pain that was eased somewhat when Dean helped him up and excitedly awarded him 1000 points. When they got bored with that game, Dean practiced throwing the ball straight up in the air for Cas to catch. Then over a small tree growing in his side yard. They got the bright idea to try throwing the baseball over the house for Cas to catch in the backyard, but after the first two tries thudded loudly on the roof, Mary came outside to see what was happening and promptly confiscated the ball and gloves for the rest of the day. 

Sometimes they helped Naomi with the raised garden beds Cas’s dad had built for her, dragging bag after bag of topsoil to fill them so she could plant fall flowers and winter vegetables. The weather was so nice that both moms ushered the boys outside every chance they got, but Cas spent some time in Dean’s room, wisely keeping his mouth shut about the Royals posters lining the walls. Dean got to see Cas’s room with his bed and nightstand tucked under the slanted eaves. Dean stood and peered out the window. 

“I can practically touch the climbing tree from here.”

Cas stood next to him, considering. “You’d need super long arms.”

Dean huffed. “You know what I mean.” He turned to Cas, eyes wide with excitement. “If we had a really long rope, we could use the bucket to send messages back and forth from your room to the tree.” 

Cas thought for a long moment, then explained in great detail why there wasn’t enough slope between the two ends of the rope for gravity to allow the bucket to travel, not to mention the need to keep unencumbered space over the street and—

“Nerd,” Dean said, but he was smiling.

Cas punched his shoulder. “Better than a dumb jock.”

Near the end of August, Cas and Dean were lying in the shade of the burr oak in the Winchesters’ front yard trying to decide what to do.

“You could do sidewalk chalk with me,” Sam called from where he was drawing a line of bugs marching along the driveway.

“Or not,” Dean said, just as the sound of pounding footsteps approached. He pushed up onto his elbows. “Charlie!”

“I’m back!” the girl announced, coming to a stop, long red ponytail swinging behind her. She looked at Cas, who was also sitting up now. “Hello.”

“Charlie, this is Cas. He moved in while you were at camp.”

Cas climbed to his feet and formally shook Charlie’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you,” he said.

Charlie regarded him with sympathetic eyes. “Have you been stuck with Dean all this time? Do you know everything there is to know about the Royals now? Have you considered flinging yourself off the nearest bridge?”

Cas darted his eyes at Dean, but Dean only rolled his eyes.

“He does have a…wealth of information,” Cas said, diplomatically.

“Cas is a White Sox fan,” Dean said, as if that explained everything.

“And you’re still hanging out with him? It’s the great miracle of our time!” She kicked at Dean’s ankle. “Did you hear? The class lists are getting posted today.”

Dean scrambled to his feet. “Let’s go.”

Fifteen minutes later, they were on their way up the street. Plainview Elementary was about a ten minute walk, longer if you had short legs like Sam, but with Mary and Naomi there to keep pace with him, the older kids were free to run ahead. As they approached the school they met up with other kids all excitedly coming to check the papers taped to the glass of the front door. Some skipped happily away while others walked with their heads down. Cas hung back a little at the crowd, but Charlie wriggled her way to the front. She was back a few moments later with a happy whoop. “Yes! Mrs. Irvine!” 

Dean came back, pleased as well. “I’ve got Mr. Lambert. He’s cool.”

When Cas checked, he found that he was on Mrs. Irvine’s list as well. He wished he were with Dean, but at least now he knew one person in his class. 

As they waited for Sam and the moms to get there, a bright red convertible pulled into the school driveway, coming to a stop in the fire lane directly in front. A sandy-haired boy hopped over the still-closed door.

“Hey Dean!”

“Hi Gabe. You’re with me in Lambert’s class.”

“Nice.” He ignored Charlie and turned to look at Cas. “Who are you?”

“Lovely manners as always, I see,” Charlie said.

“This is Cas. He just moved here. He’s going into fifth, too,” Dean told him.

Cas held out his hand, but Gabe just looked him up and down. “Oooookay,” he said. A sharp beep from the convertible made them all jump and Gabe turned a sour face towards the driver. “Hold your horses!” he yelled at the woman driving before sighing and rolling his eyes. “Lemme go see who else I’m stuck with,” he said before pushing his way to the front of the line. 

“Wow, I did not miss seeing him all summer,” Charlie said. 

Dean shrugged. “He’s okay.”

“He’s a jerk.” 

“He’s the best pitcher on our team.” 

“Oh, well that excuses everything,” Charlie said with mock sweetness. 

“It doesn’t seem right that Cas missed the Fourth of July party,” Dean said one afternoon a few days later when they were waiting out a rain shower on Cas’s porch.

“Well, he didn’t live here then, so he didn’t really _miss_ it,” Mary pointed out. ‘He just wasn’t here for it.”

“Still,” Dean said.

“It’s not fair,” Sam chimed in. Dean and Cas ignored him; Sam spent half his time complaining about life’s unfairness.

“We should have another party,” Dean suggested. “One the Novaks can come to.”

“Summer’s almost gone,” Naomi said. “There’s always next year.”

“People have parties for Labor Day! To celebrate the end of summer!” Dean looked quite pleased with himself.

“They do,” Cas agreed.

“That would be fair!” Sam said.

Mary looked at her two boys, and then looked at Naomi. “It’s hard to argue with my boys when they agree on something for once. I suppose it isn’t the worst idea I’ve heard.”

Naomi smiled. “I have a baked bean recipe that goes back three generations.”

That’s how the Winchesters ended up hosting a Labor Day cookout the day before school started. Charlie’s family came, as well as Mrs. Tran with her son Kevin from up the street. They’d invited the Harpers, the older couple who lived in the house between the Winchesters and the Novaks. They were going to be out of town, but they sent over a batch of sweet corn as a thank you for the invitation. Since it was technically a school night, the party was scheduled for late afternoon, and Cas walked up the street right after lunch to help get things ready. The boys carried chairs outside and helped Mary set the table.

“Do we need all this stuff?” Dean gestured to where Mary was tying each white cloth napkin with a length of raffia.

“No, but it’s nice to have it anyway.” Mary gathered them up and handed them to Cas to take to the table. 

Cas had to admit it looked nice. The long table was set with a navy blue tablecloth blowing gently in the breeze. Cas set a wrapped napkin onto each red plate to help weigh it down. Sam and Kevin, both starting first grade tomorrow, were charged with picking flowers to tuck in with each napkin so the places were adorned with everything from dandelions to asters to tiny violets. The mismatched flowers were perfect with the mismatched kitchen chairs, folding chairs, and patio chairs all gathered to seat twelve. Hurricane lanterns with white pillar candles were interspersed along the length of the table and a metal tub filled with ice and drinks sat in a shady spot under a tree. 

John checked the progress of the coals in the grill and cracked open his first beer. “Looks good, hon,” he said. “I hope the rain holds off.”

Kevin and Sam colored on a big sheet of butcher paper Mary had taped to the wooden fence and Cas plopped down onto the grass while he waited for Dean to come back out with a roll of paper towels his mother had requested. He tried not to stare as Mary stepped closer to John, snuggling into his side as he wrapped an arm around her. “I can’t believe our baby is starting first grade. It’s going to be so strange to have him gone all day.”

“I’ll remind you of that when you’re tearing your hair out at bedtime,” John said.

Just then the Bradburys appeared in the driveway, laden down by casserole dishes and bags of chips. Dean and Cas dutifully crossed towards them, taking the food out of their hands and bringing it to the table like they’d been coached to do. Sam and Kevin ran to them, intent on fulfilling their job of having each guest “sign in” and leave a message on the butcher paper. The Bradburys waved hello to the Winchesters before letting the little boys escort them to the fence. Cas’s parents came next, Chuck carrying the large bowl of baked beans that had been simmering all day, filling their house with the tangy smell of molasses and vinegar. Chuck was four years older than his wife, and while his hair was thick and wavy like his son’s, it had gone almost completely silver, leaving just a bit of dark still visible at the nape of his neck. His shoulders were a little stooped, but his smile was bright and friendly. In contrast to John in jeans and a t-shirt, Chuck wore crisp khakis and short-sleeved button down shirt. (Dean had asked Cas once if his dad even owned any jeans and was informed that he had one pair designated for working in the yard.) 

Mary approached to give Naomi a hug. “You look so patriotic,” she said, taking in Naomi’s long denim skirt, red and white striped top, and chunky wooden necklace painted like the American flag. 

“I taught second grade for over twenty years,” Naomi reminded her, laughing so that her star-shaped earrings swung. “You should see me on St. Patrick’s Day!”

The kids ran and played in the yard while the grown-ups chatted. Cas was worried about starting at the new school, but it was hard to stay focused on that when Charlie got so offended at Dean calling her an honorary boy that she punched him in the shoulder. Cas laughed, especially when Dean waited until her back was turned to quickly rub it. 

The men gathered around John at the grill, beers in hand, and the moms trailed in and out of the house bringing out items as needed. Chuck accepted a beer and so did Naomi, which surprised Cas, but he smiled to see her pour it into a glass first instead of drinking out of the can like everyone else. It was rare to see his parents drink and when they did, he’d never seen them have more than one. Dean’s dad, however, seemed to have a new beer in his hand every time Cas looked. It was enough to have Cas concerned, but nobody else seemed to bat an eye and all he noticed was that John’s voice got a little louder, his laughter a little more frequent.

The days were growing noticeably shorter, and tonight a bank of clouds began to form in the west, but the sky stayed clear long enough for them to eat dinner and toast marshmallows over the open grill. 

“Here comes the rain,” Chuck observed, as a low rumble of thunder sounded. Kevin turned to look, his flaming marshmallow swinging as he pivoted. Linda hurried to catch his hand while Dean pulled Cas out of the way just in time. Cas rewarded him with the perfect, golden marshmallow he’d been toasting.

As it began to sprinkle, a flash of lightning forked the sky and the wind picked up, ripping one corner of the butcher paper from the fence. The little boys ran to save it as everyone worked, rushing and laughing, to clear the table and put things safely away inside. 

“You guys get on home,” Mary said, waving off offers to help with the dishes. “Big day tomorrow.”

After a flurry of goodbyes and thank you, Cas and his parents ducked their heads against the rain and made their way back to the end of the street.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning when Naomi came upstairs to wake him for school, Cas was already lying awake in his bed. She sat down on the edge and smoothed his hair back. “Ready for today?”

In response, Cas pulled the covers over his head. “I wish it could be summer forever.”

Naomi laughed. “No such luck. I know a new school is hard, but you have friends here now. You’ll be comfortable in no time.”

Cas knew he was too old to want his mother to come to school with him, but she’d been there in the same building since he’d started Kindergarten. From under the covers he made a non-committal grumbling sound.

He felt the bed shift as his mother stood up. “If you don’t get up, we won’t be able to walk to school with the Winchesters.”

Dressed and with a few bites of breakfast churning in his anxious stomach, Cas and his mother headed up the street to meet Mary and the boys. Sam eagerly showed off his new Spiderman backpack. Dean had on a Jayhawks t-shirt, shorts, and a Royals cap. He narrowed his eyes at Cas in his collared shirt and khaki shorts that his mother had ironed for him.

“Why are you so fancy?”

“It’s the first day of school.” Cas and his mother had always treated the first day of school with a certain amount of formality. He wouldn’t have felt right wearing the casual clothes he’d been in all summer long, but seeing Dean dressed the same way he always did made Cas relax a little. Like maybe things weren’t going to change completely now that the school year had started. 

Sam skipped ahead but the bigger boys lagged behind. 

“School should be against the law,” Dean grumbled. 

“Maybe we could hide in the woods all day instead.”

“Or up in the tree.”

“No school, no baseball,” Mary said over her shoulder. 

Dean waited until she’d turned back around to pretend to mock her. 

Inside the building Dean tolerated a quick, one-armed hug from Mary who promised she’d come say goodbye once she got Sam settled in his classroom. While she turned left inside the front door, Dean and Cas and Naomi turned right toward the wing that housed the older grades. Dean was immediately caught up in a tide of kids calling hello and shoving him good-naturedly. One snatched his hat from his head and he whipped around to see Gabe smirking and holding it out of reach.

“Hey, Dean,” Gabe said.

“Hi Gabe,” Dean said, grabbing his hat back. “Bye, Cas!” he called as they reached his classroom door. 

_ “Bye, Cas,” _ Gabe mimicked in a high-pitched voice.

Cas turned to catch up with Naomi, who was nearly at Mrs. Irvine’s door. The teacher, who had a pleasant face and wore a sleeveless flowered dress, stood in the hallway greeting her students as they arrived. Only a few of the fifth graders were accompanied by parents, and he didn’t see Charlie anywhere. Naomi stopped, a hand on her son’s shoulder, to introduce them. Mrs. Irvine smiled brightly at him, her eyes soft and kind. She shook his hand and welcomed him warmly, encouraging him to go inside and find the desk with his name on it. Naomi didn’t follow him in, spending a few moments more chatting with the teacher, so Cas ventured into the room alone, feeling all eyes on him. 

He’d never been the “new kid” before. In fact, most of the people at his old school had literally known him since before he was born. His mother had taught there for decades, taking a few years off when Cas was born before returning to work part time until he was ready to start kindergarten. Each day he and Naomi had gone to school together in the morning and come home afterwards. If she had meetings, he sat quietly in her classroom or in the office. Once he got older, he was free to spend time in the school library while he waited, finishing his homework before perusing the bookshelves. Since the librarian was usually gone, they rigged up a system where he would copy down the title of any books he wanted to borrow, leaving it along with his name on a post-it note on her desk where she’d find it in the morning. When Naomi was done, he’d hear her low heels clacking in the hallway and she’d find him sprawled on one of the beanbags or upright in the wooden rocking chair the librarian used for reading to the kindergarteners. He’d gather his things and they’d drive home to get dinner ready. That school building had been like a second home to him.

Now he looked around the unfamiliar classroom, trying to find his desk. Most of the boys dressed like Dean in shirts with sports team logos. The girls all seemed to have long, shiny hair and some of them put their heads together and whispered as he walked by. A few stared; none said hello. Finally he found his desk in the middle of the second row and, not sure what to do with his backpack, he set it by his feet as he took his seat. Students and the occasional parent continued to stream into the classroom and the excitement of seeing old friends soon surpassed the novelty of the new kid. 

He was sitting as still as he could, staring down at his name on his desk when Naomi came up the aisle and crouched down alongside him. “If you’re okay, I’m gonna go.” She looked at him questioningly and Cas nodded. “You’re going to do great, honey. I’ll be out front at the end of the day.” 

Cas smiled. “Okay.”

Naomi laid her hand briefly on his cheek before straightening up and leaving. Cas watched her leave, but a moment later he felt hands on his shoulders. “Boo!” Charlie said in his ear, scaring him half to death.

He laughed both with adrenaline and relief at seeing a familiar face.

She cocked her head towards the back of the room. “My desk is over there, but if we need partners for anything, I’ll be yours.” She scurried to her seat as the teacher took her place at the front of the class. 

With the school year, the days began a predictable pattern. Cas didn’t see Dean much during the day because each class ate lunch in their rooms, but Dean and Charlie and Cas all went to the same classroom for sixth grade math. When Mrs. Irvine’s class went to music, they always passed the first graders as they filed out to recess, and Sam did his best to stay in line as he wriggled and waited for Cas to high-five him. All the fifth graders had recess together, but Dean used it to play baseball with Gabe and a bunch of other boys Cas didn’t know, and Cas was content to sit on the wall and watch or walk laps around the field with Charlie and some of her other friends. 

But each morning he and Naomi met Mary and the boys to walk to school, then congregated outside at dismissal to walk home again. Cas didn’t need his mother to walk him home, but once it became known that she was an experienced teacher, Naomi was in great demand at the school to help with reading groups and extra math instruction for various classrooms. Cas never minded having his mother there. She just went about her business doing whatever needed to be done and he liked catching glimpses of her in the hallway working with small groups of students. 

At first some of the kids asked the “Is she your grandma?” question and Gabe even outright said, “Why is your mom so old?” but Cas gave the same calm explanation each time. 

School came easily to Cas. He worked diligently, but the assignments were never too much for him. Being friends with Charlie automatically gave him entrance into the social scene, but none of that interested him too much. His “new kid” status afforded him quite a bit of interest from both boys and girls at first, but once it was determined that he wasn’t going to be the savior of their sports teams or their next dashing boyfriend, the curiosity wore off. He was happy to sit and read when his work was done, blissfully unencumbered by the social dramas that constantly seemed to be playing out around him. 

After school, Dean and Cas would resume their treks through the woods, using sticks to clear up piles of leaves that swirled against rocks choking the creek or gathering acorns to take to their ever-evolving forts. Some days they spent so long arguing over the rules that they never got to the actual acorn battle before one or the other of them was called back inside for dinner. The climbing tree was still a favorite, even as it rained down purple-brown leaves until they were ankle deep around the trunk. 

One unseasonably warm day in late October, Dean climbed down from the tree and crossed the street to ask his mother to please  _ please _ stop Sam from bugging them (he was swinging a wiffle ball bat at the trunk this time in an attempt to chop it down). Mary set down her mug of tea and got up from the porch steps where she’d been sitting with Naomi to come get Sam. Sam clutched the bat to his chest and wailed at being separated from the big boys, but Mary had whispered something in his ear that made his eyes light up. Dropping the bat, he and his mother crossed the street and walked across the Novaks’ lawn. 

Dean expertly climbed back up to his spot in the tree. “Thank God,” he said, once he was seated on his “balcony”. Cas stood on a sturdy branch and reached two hands above his head to grab a smaller one. He shook it and they both watched as the leaves fluttered down to the ground. It was actually a little boring now that Sam wasn’t there creating a ruckus. 

Dean looked across the street. “What are they doing?” 

Mary and Sam were gathering up large armfuls of leaves, then dropping them in piles at regular intervals. Bending over and using both hands, Mary pushed and shaped the leaves until the piles were drawn out into straight lines, turning corners until she’d outlined a square. Sam happily jumped into the enclosed area, but Mary shook her head, then removed a small area of leaves. Sam nodded and jumped back out, walking around to enter again, this time through the opening in the leaf line. 

“Mom! What are you doing?” Dean yelled, his curiosity getting the better of him.

“It’s a leaf house!” Sam yelled back. “It’s mine!”

Cas waited for Dean to announce that it was dumb. Instead he looked over at Cas who shrugged. “I’d build a leaf mansion.” 

“I’d build a leaf baseball stadium.” 

A moment later, they took their respective exits out of the tree. Running back over, they watched as Mary took more leaves to outline a second room, showing Sam how to clear a doorway between the two. Cas and Dean ran for their own armfuls and, before long, much of the Novaks’ front yard was outlined in leaves. Dean’s house connected to Sam’s, while Cas built his next door to Dean’s. With the construction done, Cas relaxed on the grass in the reading room he’d built off his bedroom while Dean swung the wiffle ball bat in the batting cages he’d built behind his house. Sam dropped leaves in a circle around the trunk of a small apple tree in the corner of the yard and claimed it as his  _ very-own-climbing-tree-nobody-else-allowed.  _ Inside the circle he laid out the contents of his bulging pockets, a collection that changed each day. Today Cas saw a broken yellow crayon, a pencil eraser, an army man, a golf tee, a red bouncy ball, three acorns, two rocks, and a chunk of bark. 

Then he ran to the steps where Naomi and Mary sat and asked Naomi a question. She smiled and stood up, stepping into the house for a moment, coming back with a plastic plate which she handed to Sam. He ran back to his house and selected a few of the brightest yellow leaves from his walls, placing them carefully on the plate. 

“Dean! Come on! I made banana bread to take to Cas’s house.” He walked out his front door and stood outside Dean’s house, pretending to knock. Dean laughed and navigated the doorways of his house until he was standing next to Sam. 

“Okay, let’s go.” Together they knocked on Cas’s door.

“Go away!” Cas yelled from the grass. “Nobody’s home.”

Sam giggled as Dean knocked again.

“We’re here to welcome you to the neighborhood, you dork!”

Cas huffed and got up, criss-crossing the leaf-outlined rooms to get to the front door. “What did you call me?”

“A dork.” Dean took the leaves from Sam’s plate and threw them at Cas “Do you like banana bread?” he yelled over his shoulder as he ran for his life. 

Cas caught him near the apple tree and tackled him, rubbing leaves in his face. “Do you?” 

They wrestled, laughing, until Mary called at them to break it up. Cas stood and offered a hand to Dean, pulling him up off the ground. 

“Don’t touch my house, Sam!” Dean called, spying Sam busily working between Dean and Cas’s houses.

“I fixed it,” Sam said. He’d opened up a passageway, connecting the two.

From leaf houses in the fall to snowball fights in the winter, Cas lost track of how many hours they spent in the forest and how many nights they spent sleeping over at each other’s houses. Dean had a beanbag chair in his room that made a decent bed for Cas, and in Cas’s room, they rolled out a sleeping bag on the floor alongside Cas’s bed. Mary knew that Cas liked honey instead of maple syrup on the waffles she made from scratch and Naomi always stocked orange juice with no pulp for Dean. When Cas and his parents traveled back to Illinois for Christmas, he was happy to see his aunts and uncles and cousins. When they asked about Kansas, he told them about their house and his upstairs room under the eaves. He told them about the forest across the street and the climbing tree. He told them about his best friend, Dean.

After Dean talking about it for months, when spring rolled around, John wasn’t coaching the Little League team after all.

Cas noticed that the Impala was still parked in the driveway one morning when they left to walk to school. Dean was quiet that morning, quiet enough that Cas could overhear his mom and Mary talking as they walked. 

“John thought he’d escape the downsizing, but he got notice they were shutting down the whole plant.”

“I’m sorry,” Naomi said gently. “I know they’d been talking about it but I didn’t think they’d go through with it.”

At first, John didn’t seem bothered by it. When they got home from school in the afternoons, he’d be waiting, smiling and ruffling Sam’s hair when he ran to him. “More time to make sure you get your swing perfected,” he told Dean. “Gotta work on keeping that back foot planted.”

True to his word, John spent extra hours pitching to Dean in the backyard, batting pop-ups and bunting grounders for him to practice fielding. He washed and waxed and polished the Impala until it was gleaming, and tackled the honey-do list, repairing torn window screens and power washing the patio. One day as Cas came looking to see if Dean could play, he heard John and Dean talking, and something about it made him duck out of sight behind the hedges that lined the border of the Harpers’ yard. John was working to steady the wobbly mailbox, letting Dean hold the wood post straight up and down while he shoveled gravel around it. 

“Well, you know how much I like to drive, right?”

Dean laughed. Even Cas knew that was an understatement.

“Well, I got a job driving trucks.” Another shovelful of gravel clattered down.

“Really?” Dean must’ve let go of the post in surprise because Cas heard John remind him to keep it still. “That’s cool! Where?”

“All over, actually. It’s long haul trucking which means I’ll be gone for days, sometimes a whole week at a time.” John’s words were light, punctuated by tamping down the gravel as he spoke. 

There was a pause before Dean responded. “What about baseball? Practice starts in a couple of weeks.”

“I turned my coaching role over to one of the other dads. But I’ll be there every chance I get,” John promised.

The silence stretched out again. Cas tried to peer through the hedge, but he couldn’t see much without revealing himself. 

“Look, Dean, I’m going to need you to be the man around here while I’m gone. Help your mother, look after Sammy. Can you do that?”

Cas heard the Harpers’ front door open and he knew he had to move. He stepped out onto the street just in time to see Dean look his father in the eye and say, “Yes, sir.”

John smiled brightly at him. “I knew I could count on you.”


	3. Chapter 3

After a long stretch with no rain, in April the dry weather finally broke. Almost overnight the forest turned all shades of green from the fresh yellow-green of the forsythia bushes to the dark glossy green of the ivy twining up and over everything in its path. After three days of nearly non-stop rain, the sun rose on a Saturday morning, raising misty clouds from the saturated ground and rooftops. Cas could see Sam and Dean already in the woods when he sat down to breakfast.

“Take these,” Naomi said when he came back down dressed and ready to join them, and she handed him two blueberry muffins. 

“Cas!” Sam ran to the edge of the street, stopping to look both ways before crossing. As usual, his pockets bulged with the day’s collection of precious items. Cas handed him a muffin and they crossed back together. From up in the tree, Dean held out his hands and Cas took a step back, lobbing the muffin upwards. Dean barely had to lean forward to catch it. 

“Let’s go look at the creek,” Dean said, once his muffin was gone. 

They heard it before they saw it. The ground had been too dry to absorb the influx of precipitation and much of it had drained directly into the creek. The rocks they had overturned just a week ago looking for crawfish now sat submerged under at least a foot of rushing water. On either side of the creek bed, overflowing water coursed along, leaving the grassy banks sloppy with mud. The running of the water made a steady roar as sticks and leaves swirled and tumbled downstream in a flash. 

Dean reached up for a branch that drooped toward the ground, broken at its base from the storm but still connected to the tree. He wiggled it back and forth like a loose tooth until the splintered wood broke, then laid it on the ground a good ten feet from the water’s edge.

“You stay behind this, Sammy.”

Sam let out a frustrated whine, but Dean turned on him with his eyebrows drawn together. “I’m serious.”

“Fine,” Sam pouted.

Dean moved closer to the water, Cas a few steps behind him. Grass poked up through the swampy pools collecting at the edges of the overflow and Dean walked carefully through them, his shoes splashing in the squishy mud. Near the edge of the bank he took a hesitant step that dislodged the soggy earth beneath him, and he slid down the bank. Half in the water, he swore loudly enough to be heard over the roar of the creek, and Cas stopped where he was, doubled over laughing.

“Very smooth, Dean. You get a ten for form!”

“Shut up, Novak,” Dean grumbled, working to regain purchase. He pulled his knee under him and pushed off from the bank to center his weight and climb to his feet, but with one leg straightened, his water-logged jeans clung to the muck and he toppled further down into the creek, landing on his knees. The water wasn’t deep, but the current was strong enough to keep him down, his face only inches from the surface. Cas watched as he struggled, his green eyes filled with panic.

“Hang on!” Cas scrambled back through the mud toward Sam, grabbing the branch at his feet and moving to where Dean floundered, water swirling around him as he splashed and tried to get up. Cas stood sideways, anchoring his back foot uphill and held out the branch, edging forward carefully until Dean was able to grasp it. With mud sloshing around his ankles, Cas bent his knees, his weight on his heels as he worked to hold the branch steady. Hand over hand, Dean pulled himself up and out until Cas was close enough to get a hand on his wrist and another on his shoulder. Together they staggered out of the water, both of them collapsing on dry ground. 

Sam scampered down to where they lay. “That was awesome!”

Cas gripped two handfuls of grass, grounding himself. Dean lay with his head against Cas’s chest, an arm flung across his face, his breath coming in ragged gasps. 

“You saved his life!” Sam said, clearly awestruck. “That’s a lifelong debt!” he intoned, his face full of earnest sincerity.

“You need to lay off the Star Wars, Sammy,” Dean said, eyes still covered.

“This is serious, Dean! You are indebted to him for your life. Only he can release you from it.”

Dean made a small snort. Cas started to giggle, relief washing over him as the adrenaline drained away. The more Sam insisted, the funnier it got until the whole thing became hysterical.

Sam dug through his pockets. “This is _ serious, _ you guys!”

Dean sat up and punched Cas in the shoulder. “This is serious.” He nearly managed the entire sentence before bursting out in a new wave of laughter.

“Stand up,” Sam commanded.

“Sam, I just nearly died. You said so yourself. Whatever ceremony you have planned can happen while I’m sitting down.”

Sam had no argument for that, but he waited for Cas to work his way into a sitting position as well.

“Hold out your hands,” Sam said. He stretched out both of his arms, hands closed into fists, fingers facing the ground. Dean and Cas obediently each held out a hand and, when Sam was satisfied with their position, he nodded and solemnly dropped a marble into them. Cas’s was clear blue, Dean’s was green with a streak of gold threaded through the middle. 

“Cas, give Dean your marble and repeat after me.” Cas tossed the marble in the air and Dean snagged it. “I saved your life and we are forever bound,” Sam said. “Say it,” he hissed, when Cas hesitated.

Unless they wanted to deal with Sam running home crying, Cas knew there was no arguing with him at this point. “I saved your life and we are forever bound,” Cas said, bowing at the waist as best he could from a seated position.

“Dean, your turn.”

Dean bounced the marble off of Cas’s forehead. Cas dug it out of his lap, giggling. 

“You saved my life and we are forever bound,” Sam prompted.

“I think I would’ve rather drowned,” Dean muttered.

“Dean!” Sam yelled and this time there was actual foot stomping. 

Dean sighed. “You saved my life and we are forever bound.” The laughter was gone as abruptly as it started. As Cas watched, Dean blinked hard a couple of times, his mouth trembling. He stared down at his hand. “Hey, this marble is broken.” He held it out, showing Cas the small, rough divot in the otherwise smooth surface. 

Cas did his best to help lighten the mood. “I can toss you back in the creek if you want.” When Dean didn’t laugh, Cas stood and said, “We should probably go get dry clothes.” He held out a hand to pull Dean up, but Dean pretended not to see it and climbed to his feet himself.

At home, Naomi—after asking a second time whether everyone was okay—insisted he leave his muddy clothes in the laundry room. He ran upstairs for his robe and towel, taking the time to place the marble carefully in the cradle of the half moon brass latch on his window. 

By the time the boys were in sixth grade, the start of school held no stress other than the pain of having to exchange late nights playing flashlight tag with going to bed insultingly early. Cas knew the school like the back of his hand and, even though he and Dean were in separate classrooms again, he had other friends in his class. And many days, the tradition of walking to and from school as a group continued, even though Dean and Cas did their best to pretend that they walked on their own. Cas liked that his days were predictable, he liked knowing what to expect. Some of the kids in his class had started to date, a topic that left Dean intrigued and Cas with a faint stomach ache. Lots of girls liked Dean, some of them following him around the field during recess. Cas watched from the sidelines, impressed by how easily Dean smiled at the girls, chatting with them and happily accepting cookies from their lunches. But baseball remained his number one interest, and before long he’d evade them and switch to throwing a ball around with Gabe. None of the girls approached Cas and, despite his love of cookies, he was more than okay with that. Having a girlfriend seemed like so much work. Every week it seemed like a girl was crying in the bathroom while her friends yelled at some boy who looked more terrified than when the teacher called on him to do a math problem on the board. 

One fall afternoon, Charlie came to sit with him on the wall to watch an episode of this play out, this time with Gabe looking stricken as he was on the receiving end of two girls who managed to self-righteously toss their hair in tandem. 

“I cannot believe how immature these kids are.”

Cas laughed and elbowed her. “Dean's only a few months younger than we are.”

She shook her head knowingly. “It’s a lifetime at this age.”

“Are you holding out for a seventh grader?”

She shrugged. “Everyone here is just so...boring.”

“Wow, thanks,” Cas said. 

She smiled at him. “You know what I mean. At least when I go to camp, I get to meet people from all over.”

“Don’t rub it in. Not when I’m the one left behind.”

“Somebody has to keep Winchester in line while I’m gone.”

Cas didn’t answer, instead watching Dean grin and dart out of the reach of a girl who tried to grab his baseball cap. 

It was in early spring of their sixth grade year when Cas woke in the middle of the night to the phone ringing. Rolling over, he glanced at the neon display of his clock to find it was nearly one in the morning. From downstairs he heard his father’s voice uttering a few quick words, but Cas was too far away to make them out. When the phone call ended, Cas relaxed again, closing his eyes and pulling the covers over his head, but even so, he could hear footsteps as his parents came out of their bedroom. A moment later the front porch light was switched on, the glow lighting the edges of his window. Cas sat up; something was clearly wrong. He climbed out of bed and went to the window, looking out over the front yard to see a large and small dark figure coming up the walk. Cas scrambled out of his room, clutching the bannister at the top of the steps, out of sight, but close enough to listen as his dad opened the door. Everyone spoke nearly at once.

“Really appreciate it,” John said.

“Here, I’ll take him,” Naomi said.

“Come on in, son,” Chuck said. 

The men stepped outside, pulling the door mostly shut behind them so Cas couldn’t hear what they were saying. He crept down the steps until he could see into the front room where Naomi was holding a sleeping Sam, his head flopped down onto her shoulder. Dean stood beside her, in pajamas, looking dazed. Naomi caught sight of her son.

“What’s going on?” Cas kept his voice down so as not to wake Sam.

His mother pressed her lips into a tight line for a moment before answering. “Mary isn’t feeling well and John needs to take her to the doctor. The boys are going to spend the night so he can do that.” She shifted Sam a little higher. At eight years old, he’d gotten long and lanky, and she struggled to keep his sleeping weight balanced. “I’m going to put Sam in the spare room. Dean, you can come with him or go upstairs with Castiel.” 

Dean lifted his gaze from the floor and looked at Naomi, then over at Cas. He looked so lost that for a moment Cas hoped he’d choose to go with his brother. Abruptly, Cas wished he’d never gotten out of bed, never been awakened by the phone. He could’ve come downstairs in the morning, happily surprised to find them here, never having seen the empty look in his friend’s eyes. Sam made a whimpering noise and Naomi turned to take him down the hall just as Chuck came back inside, carefully locking the door behind him and switching off the porch light. 

“Dad?” Cas said, not really knowing what he was asking.

“You boys head upstairs now,” Chuck said. “Everything will be fine. Get some sleep.”

Cas saw Dean relax the tiniest bit. “C’mon, Dean.” Cas waited until Dean took a step in his direction to turn and lead the way back upstairs. In his room, Cas turned on the light so he could see to open the closet and take out the sleeping bag. He unrolled it in the small space between his bed and the wall before taking a pillow off his bed and putting it on the floor, like it was any other sleepover. Tonight, though, everything about the familiar set-up felt hollow and wrong. Wordlessly, Dean crawled into the sleeping bag while Cas turned off the light and got into bed.

Cas rolled onto his side and looked down over the side of his bed. “What happened?” he whispered. The streetlight on the corner let in just enough light for him to make out Dean lying on his back. Instead of answering, he put both hands to his face, his mouth crumpling as he cried. Heart racing, Cas sat up, swinging his legs out from under the covers. “I’ll go get my mom.”

Dean reached out a hand, grabbing Cas’s ankle. “No, don’t. I’m okay.”

“Dean,” Cas protested, but Dean let go and rolled onto his side away from him, still snuffling, his shoulders shaking. Cas wedged himself onto the floor, sitting cross-legged with his back against the side of his bed. He hesitated, then reached out a hand to Dean, sort of petting his hair the way Naomi did when he was upset. Dean cried harder for a moment, but he didn’t move away. Cas kept it up, even when his shoulder ached from leaning over in the cramped quarters, until Dean was finally asleep. 

Cas thought about the time last year as winter was taking hold, on the third day of cold, grey rain when he and Naomi had walked up the street to meet Mary and the boys. Only Sam and Dean were there waiting, standing together at the end of the driveway. 

“Hi, boys,” Naomi said. “Your mom forget something?”

Sam turned his big hazel eyes to look at his brother, who looked at the ground before looking at Naomi. “She’s sick today,” Dean said slowly.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Naomi said. “I’m happy to walk you to school only—“ she smoothed down Sam’s unbrushed hair “—it looks like Sam here forgot his jacket and backpack.” 

Dean took in the sight of his brother wearing a short-sleeved shirt in the chilled misty air that wasn’t quite dry and wasn’t quite rain. “I know where they are,” he said, turning back to the house. “I’ll get them.”

The rest of that week, Naomi walked the three boys to and from school. Cas hadn’t thought much of it because after that first day, Sam always had his things and his hair was brushed. Mary was back, good as new, on Monday and everything went back to normal. 

Cas climbed back into his own bed and fell asleep with one arm dangling down over the edge. 

When he woke up, it took him a minute to remember what had happened the night before. Pushing up on one elbow, he checked on Dean, but all he saw was the neatly rolled-up sleeping bag and the pillow next to it. Downstairs, Naomi stood at the stove, scrambling eggs. Sam smiled at him from the table, but Dean stayed focused on his orange juice. 

“Where’s Dad?’ Cas asked.

“He went to church, but I figured you needed the time to sleep in.” Cas nodded. If his dad was at church that meant things must be all right. “Pour yourself some juice. The eggs are almost ready.”

Cas filled a glass from the pitcher and took a seat at the table. “How’s—“ he started.

“Mary is fine,” Naomi assured him. “She’s going to visit her aunt for a few days just to get some rest. The boys will be here for a bit today, but John got his schedule rearranged so that he can be home with them until she gets back.”

Dean brightened at that. “Can we go get dressed after breakfast?”

“Sure. Go get anything you need and then come back down.”

Dean happily ate some eggs and reached for a piece of toast from the stack on the plate in the center of the table. He took a large bite. “This is good. What kind of bread is it?”

Naomi held up the bag of bread to show him. 

“That’s the same kind we have,” Sam said.

“Must be different butter, then.” Dean mused, taking another bite. 

“Nope! Same as ours!” Sam pointed to the tub of margarine.

“My mom always says food tastes better when somebody else makes it for you,” Cas offered, and Naomi stopped where she was putting the carton of eggs into the fridge to study Dean for a long moment.

“It tastes the same to me,” Sam said as he chewed. 

After breakfast, Cas quickly changed and they walked up to the Winchesters’ house. Sam didn’t seem to care about being in pajamas, but Dean asked to borrow one of Cas’s sweatshirts for the walk home. When they got there, the garage door was open, revealing both the Impala and Mary’s car parked inside. The door from the garage took them to the laundry room, and John was there moving a load of wet laundry to the dryer. 

“Hey guys.” John closed the dryer door and straightened up to let them into the narrow room.

Sam ran to John and hugged him. “When’s mom coming back?”

“Coupla days, sport. She just needed a little break.” 

“How’d she get there?” Dean asked.

“She got picked up,” John said, fiddling with the controls until the dryer whirred to life. Dean ushered Sam past their father who followed them out into the kitchen. Unsure of what to do, Cas stopped in the laundry room doorway, trying to stay out of the way. “Look, when your mom gets back, I’m going to need you boys to be extra good helpers. It’s a lot of work raising two fine young men.” He reached out to ruffle Dean’s hair.

“Can I stay here with you now?” Sam asked.

“Sure, if you want. But it’s going to be kind of boring. Plus I think I heard Mrs. Novak say something about going to the movies?”

“I’ll go get dressed!” Sam ran off.

John turned to his older son. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Dean said. From where he stood, Cas could see Dean wasn’t looking at his father. Instead his gaze focused on his mother’s purse, sitting on the kitchen table. As he slowly followed his brother upstairs, Cas ducked back outside to wait.


	4. Chapter 4

The summer after sixth grade ended, the boys still played in the woods, but they did a lot more wandering around as well. Whether it was hanging out at the little league field watching Dean play or walking to the small convenience store to see how much candy they could get with their pooled money, the boys had a lot more freedom. Cas was volunteered by his mother to help with the camp at their church and, even though he complained about having to get up early, he liked working with the little kids. 

Despite these changes, some traditions stayed the same. John was in town for the Fourth of July, and the Winchesters hosted another cookout. 

“Still getting things together,” John apologized when the Novaks arrived with a cake decorated with strawberry stars and blueberry stripes. Naomi wore a t-shirt emblazoned with sequined fireworks, her favorite long denim skirt, and dangly flag-shaped earrings. 

“No problem. We’re happy to help,” Chuck said, and he and John got to work pulling the folding table out of the garage and setting it up on the grass. 

Cas and Naomi went to the back door and Mary waved them inside. Naomi instructed Cas to unwrap the packages of juice boxes and put them in the cooler that sat in the corner of the kitchen. As he started that, she set the cake pan down on the counter and embraced her friend. 

“I feel like I’ve barely seen you since school let out,” Naomi said.

Mary turned to pull the mayonnaise out of the refrigerator. “I know. There’s just so much more to do around here with John gone so much.” 

“You know I’m always happy to help with the boys or whatever you need.” Naomi said, as Mary spooned some into the bowl of potato salad.

“I do. And thank you, but we’re managing.” She ground some fresh pepper into the bowl, “”Would you mind stirring this?” 

Naomi and Cas were left in the kitchen alone while Mary carried the stack of plates outside.

If volume was any indicator, the party was a rousing success. The kids chased each other, tossing and dodging the pop-its that made tiny, cracking explosions wherever they landed. Shrieks and bangs filled the air.

As the sky darkened, John opened another beer, pushing the empties out of the way to make room. His voice got louder as he regaled the company with stories from the road.

“Lotta faggots at truck-stops is all I’m saying,” he laughed, as the kids approached the table en masse to ask about lighting off fireworks.

“John,” Mary said, putting a hand on his forearm. He shook it off. 

“It’s the God’s truth, Mary.” He turned to catch Chuck’s eye for collaboration. “And you know how they are. Can barely control themselves.”

Linda Tran pushed back from the table. “C’mon kids. Let’s go find the sparklers.” Sam and Kevin trailed after her, but Dean, Cas, and Charlie hung back, listening. 

“I’d say that’s an unfair generalization,” Chuck said mildly, but the tension hung over the table like the haze from a smoke bomb.

John looked the older man over. “Maybe around you. But I swear, I can’t take a piss in peace without one of them offering to ‘keep me company’.”

“I guess our experiences are different, then.” Chuck turned away. “Castiel, the fireworks we brought are over by the back door, could you get them please?”

“You can’t be soft on these boys.” He nodded toward Cas. “That one could use some toughening up. Especially with that girly name.“

“John!” Mary said, more forcefully this time. “I’m so sorry,” she said to Naomi.

John turned on Mary. “Don’t you speak for me. Like I’m supposed to be impressed that you actually got up and did something today?” 

Mary blinked back tears and stood to start clearing the table. “I’ve got it,” she snapped when Naomi rose to help her. 

“Let’s do the fireworks out front,” Charlie’s mom said, and ushered the group towards the driveway. Naomi tried to rest an arm around Cas’s shoulders as they walked, but he shrugged away from her and went to where Dean still stood by the table. 

“C’mon,” Cas said, tugging him by the arm. 

“Sorry,” Dean tried to explain. “My dad’s tired. He drove all night to get back for this.”

“It’s fine,” Cas said. He’d had plenty of comments about his name over the years. He used to explain that his parents considered his arrival such a miracle that he’d been named for an angel, but now that he was thirteen, he found ignoring it was the way to go. 

“I like your name,” Dean said. “It’s cool that you have a nickname. Not much you can do with ‘Dean’.”

“Deanie? Dean-o? Dean-a-rama?” Cas said, pronouncing each one with mock earnestness.

Dean unearthed a few more pop-its from his pocket and tossed them on the driveway at Cas’s feet. “Dance!”

Cas laughed and jumped out of the way. They started with sparklers, the older kids jabbing at each other with them while the younger ones tried to write their names in the air. Even Naomi took one and pretended she was conducting an orchestra. Under Mrs. Tran’s watchful eye, Charlie, Cas, and Dean took turns choosing fireworks from the big pack to light. Some screamed and spun, shooting sparks along the driveway. Others launched upwards, flashing bright colors as they whistled and banged. Sam shrieked in delight with each one, and Kevin watched, smiling broadly even as he kept his hands clamped over his ears. Cas watched Dean’s face in the silvery glow of one, imagining his freckles as sparks. As the smoke hung heavy in the humid air, John came out and stood quietly, a glass of water in his hands. Mary didn’t come back out. 

“You should enter this in the pie contest,” Sam said through a mouthful of berry crumble. They were sitting on the Novaks’ front porch one glorious, lazy early August afternoon. “We can pick more blueberries.”

Mary smiled. “You think it’s a winner?”

“Ok, but,” Cas said to Mary, “what about that chocolate pudding thing?”

Mary turned her smile towards at him. “That one’s good too.”

Dean picked up the can of whipped cream and added another generous squirt to his bowl. “Neither one of those are pie, though.”

Cas tapped his fork on the edge of his bowl. “That’s true.”

“I have a recipe for red raspberry pie that John calls a ‘showstopper.’ I haven’t made it since you were a baby,” she said, looking at Sam. 

“He’s still a baby,” Dean said. 

“I am  _ not, _ ” Sam wailed. Dean raised his eyebrows at Cas who shoved a forkful of crumble in his mouth to keep from laughing. 

“Raspberry pie sounds delightful,” Naomi said. “You should enter it in the contest.”

The pie contest was part of Mapleton’s upcoming heritage festival, complete with a parade and carnival in the town square. 

“Maybe I will.” Mary smiled. 

Dean stared at his mother. “But you hate the crowds and the fireworks. That’s why we always do Fourth of July at home.”

“Remember when Kevin threw that pop-it and it went down the back of my shirt?” Sam jumped off the porch and danced jerkily around the yard, mimicking his attempt to dislodge it. 

Mary shrugged and pushed her fork around her half empty bowl. “It could be fun for one day.”

“Will Dad be home?” Sam asked.

“He should be.” She turned to Dean. “You know, the first time I met your father was at a carnival.”

“In Wichita?” Sam asked.

“Like you haven’t heard this story a thousand times before,” Mary said.

“Yeah, but  _ they _ haven’t.” Sam gestured at Cas and Naomi, then came back to the porch to listen.

Mary smiled, and Cas was struck again at how young she looked compared to his mother. “Your father went to a different high school than I did so I had never met him before, but he was there with a bunch of his friends and I was there with a bunch of mine. One of my friends knew one of his friends from church so we all hung out together watching the parade. We had friends in the marching band that we wanted to see. There were fire baton twirlers and people on horseback and kids on decorated bikes—“

“And then came the clowns,” Dean supplied.

Mary shuddered. “Yes, then came the clowns. And you know how I feel about clowns. There were a group of them walking along the route, stopping to honk their horns or squirt their flowers at people lined up watching. I swear, they seek out the people who just want to be left alone and, sure enough, one comes right for me. The next thing I know, this boy is standing between me and the red-nosed abomination. He got squirted right in the face by the clown’s flower for his trouble.”

“But he also got a date with you,” Dean said. 

“He did,” Mary agreed, smiling softly. “I knew from that moment that he was a keeper. I never could’ve guessed when I woke up that day that my life was going to change.” She held out her left hand, admiring the small diamond on her ring. Naomi’s ring was bigger, prongs holding a clear, rectangular diamond. It suited her, just like the faceted heart-shaped diamond suited Mary. After a moment she looked up at her rapt audience. “I guess I’d better practice my pie crust.”

On the day of the festival, Cas convinced his parents to let him go downtown early with the Winchesters. After the Fourth of July party, his parents had sat Cas down and explained why the things John had said were inappropriate, an experience that Cas found nearly as embarrassing as the original comments. 

“I know, mom,” he’d said. “Dean told me he was tired. He’s not usually like that.” And he wasn’t. “Plus, you said he apologized the next time you saw him.” 

Chuck nodded, rubbing a hand along his bearded jaw. “He did.”

In the end, they agreed that they would meet him downtown and Naomi gave him two quarters to keep in his pocket. “If anything makes you uncomfortable, you find a phone and call us.”

“I will,” Cas promised, even though he had no intention of doing any such thing. He was a teenager now and he could handle himself. 

When he got to Dean’s house that morning, the garage was open and Dean was loading a cooler into the trunk of the Impala. He greeted Cas just as Sam came through the laundry room with a stack of blankets piled nearly higher than his head. 

“Put those next to the cooler,” he said. “Mom’ll keep the pie in the front.”

Mary had been baking pies all week trying to get her lattice work crust just right. The Novaks and the Harpers had both been recipients of what she called failed attempts, but Cas hadn’t found fault with a single bite. Along with the pie contest, John was going to have the Impala as part of the classic car display. The boys had helped him get it cleaned out and shined up, a task which conveniently kept them out of the kitchen. 

Cas stood in the shade of the garage while Dean stepped back inside to call upstairs to his parents. “We’re ready!”

When John came out, his face was tight, mouth hard-set and grim. 

“Is mom almost ready?” Dean asked.

John peered into the trunk, smoothing down the pile of blankets before closing the lid decisively. “Looks like it’s going to be a boys’ day out,” he said, with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“But this was mom’s idea,” Dean said.

“Your mother has a headache,” John said. “The crowds and noise would just make it worse.”

“But she baked all those pies.”

Before John could respond, Sam ran in from the front yard. “Let’s go!”

“Mom’s not coming,” Dean said.

“Is she sick again?” Sam asked.

“Yes,” John answered.

“Okay.” He went into the house. Through the door, Cas saw him jog over to the bottom of the staircase. “Bye, mom! Feel better!” 

“Make sure you and your brother have sweatshirts for when it cools down later,” John said to Dean.

With Dean sitting silently in the front seat, John drove the Impala into town, flashing the special parking permit that allowed him to be waved through the traffic barriers. “Pretty sweet, huh?” he said as they pulled into an angled spot in the lot reserved for the car show. 

Cas could tell Dean was upset, but he didn’t know what to do other than be extra helpful as they unloaded the car. The four of them stood on the edge of the park, searching through the crowd which covered most of the grass with picnic blankets and camp chairs. It was hectic and noisy and Dean wouldn’t say anything, and for a moment Cas wished he was back at home, up in the climbing tree with the leafy branches shielding him from view. A moment later, Charlie appeared, waving her arm. 

“We saved you a spot,” she said. “This way.”

The park was so full that the picnic blankets nearly overlapped and they walked single file, zig-zagging across the grass to get to where the Bradburys and Trans were staked out. They quickly rearranged their chairs and blankets to give the Winchesters room for their things. 

“No Mary?” Linda asked.

“She started feeling sick last minute,” John explained. “So we left her to have some peace and quiet.”

“Dad, can we go take a look around?” 

“Don’t you want to eat, son?”

Dean shook his head. “Not yet.”

Linda stepped forward. “If it’s okay with you, John, I’ll take Sam and Kevin over to the games and the big kids can go off on their own for a bit.”

John smiled. “That would be great. Thank you.” He reached into his pocket, pulling out his wallet to hand Dean a ten dollar bill. “Here. Go have fun.”

Cas, Dean, and Charlie set off through the crowd over to where the concession and carnival booths were set up. The smell of fried food filled the air as they walked past booths selling corn dogs and belgian waffles and funnel cakes. There were grilled beef and chicken skewers and cups of icy lemonade and simmering pots of beans to be added to plates of tacos. One booth sold nothing but freshly-grilled corn with a variety of flavored butters for slathering. At one end of the street was the little kids’ carnival. Kids (and the occasional parent) walked from hoop to hoop as music played, hoping to take home a plastic container of cupcakes or a frosted layer cake. Other kids clutched two-liter soda bottles proudly to their chests, having won them in a ring toss game. The trio of friends made their way down to the end, where the littlest kids glued decorations onto paper hats or sat as still as they could while their faces were painted.

It was fun to see people they knew from different parts of their lives all congregated in one place. Cas and Charlie each got a big hug from Mrs. Irvine, who was all decked out in a giant sun hat. Dean shook hands with a man who used to work with John, and they all giggled to see their neighbors, the Harpers, walking around in matching shirts. 

With the money they had, they bought fries to share and then a funnel cake, the powdered sugar sticking to their sweaty hands and faces. Charlie led them to a water fountain at the edge of the park and asked Dean to hold the button down so she could wash her hands. Once she was cleaned up, she flicked some water at Dean, who flicked some water on Cas and a shrieking water fight broke out. 

“Can’t take you people anywhere,” a voice said behind them and they turned to see Gabe standing there with a couple of other boys from Dean’s class.

“Hey dumbass!” Dean said, and flicked some water at Gabe, who jumped back to avoid it.

“Dude. You’ll get my Air Jordans wet.”

“The parade’s about to start,” Charlie said. “I want to watch it.”

With Gabe leading the way, they found a place to watch, clustered in a group on the curb. Cas smiled as the marching band appeared, the steady beat of drums the cadence to their approach. “My mom used to be a majorette,” he said to Charlie, whose eyes widened with delight. 

“No way,” she said. “Like little skirt and tasseled boots and everything?”

“Yep. I’ll show you the picture some time.”

As the baton twirlers passed by, Gabe let out a long wolf-whistle and the other boys all laughed and high-fived him. 

“If there is a God, I won’t have any classes with him next year,” Charlie said, under her breath.

“I’m not sure God has much input on school scheduling,” Cas said.

Gabe, only catching the last part, elbowed Cas. “Oh my God, you nerds, quit talking about school.” Before Cas could respond, Gabe’s attention was distracted by the silver convertible carrying one of the festival princesses. “Oooh, that one’s nicer than my mom’s. I’m getting a new car when I turn sixteen,” he said to no one in particular.

“Really?” Dean said.

“Yep. My grandparents are buying it for me.”

“Nice,” Dean said, looking impressed. “My dad’ll probably never let me drive the Impala.”

“You’ll look cool in your mom’s minivan,” Cas teased. 

“I’m already cooler than you,” Dean shot back.

Cas patted him on the shoulder as patronizingly as possible. “You just keep telling yourself that.”

“Quit being gay,” Gabe said, “C’mon, I have an idea.” They followed him back over to the carnival area, which was mostly empty while the parade was passing by. By the ring toss booth, a bunch of two liter soda bottles still sat on the ground, waiting to replace the ones won by the kids. “Who wants soda?”

Charlie crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Stealing from kids now, Gabe? Classy.” 

“They shouldn’t have left them out if they didn’t want them taken.” He bent down and grabbed a bottle of grape soda. The other boys from their class each snagged one, leaving only Dean. “Take one,” Gabe said. “You like orange, right?”

Dean hesitated.

“Don’t be stupid, Dean,” Cas said. “You have money. Win one. Or buy one.”

“Oh, how nice. You’ve got an angel on your shoulder,” Gabe sneered. “They’ll never miss it, Winchester. Don’t be a pussy.”

Dean darted his eyes around to make sure no one was looking, then bent and pulled an orange one up by the neck of the bottle. Gabe whooped and they took off running to the trees with their stolen loot.

Cas kept his hand in his pocket, sliding the two quarters back and forth against each other as he and Charlie walked back to the park. 

“I hate that kid,” Charlie said. “All he does is talk about how rich he is, and then he steals shit.”

Cas felt an ache deep inside him, but it was easier to be mad at Gabe than at Dean. “He’s such a jerk. I don’t know why Dean hangs around with him.”

“I hope he spills grape soda all over his dumb tennis shoes.” 

“Where’s Dean?” Naomi asked when they returned. Cas tried not to wince as Charlie’s mom offered them sodas.

“He went off with some baseball kids.”

“He knows to be back after the fireworks, right? I have to be back on the road in the morning,” John said.

“I think so,” Cas answered, but it felt like he couldn’t take in a deep breath until Dean showed up while the booms from the grand finale were still echoing in his ears.


	5. Chapter 5

They didn’t talk about it. Charlie made a few snide comments afterwards but Dean ignored them and, even though he probably should’ve said something, Cas stayed out of it. As much as he hated him, Cas knew Gabe was cooler and more popular. It wouldn’t take much for Dean to decide he wanted to hang out with him all the time. So Cas kept his mouth shut and before long, things were back to normal. 

A week before school started, Dean and Cas sat in the oak tree together. The sunset tinged the sky in gold and pink, the darkness beginning to hem in along the horizon. Crickets chirped and swifts swooped to skim the grass of the Novaks’ lawn in their never-ending aerial pursuit of bugs. The air had cooled just enough to make things comfortable but not chilly. Cas shifted in the tree to let the bark scratch an itchy spot on his back. 

“I don’t want to go back to school,” Dean announced.

Cas shrugged. “I don’t mind it. And junior high has to be better than elementary.”

Dean looked skeptical.

“You get to see everyone at lunch and break. Plus, it’ll be nice to change classes and not be stuck in the same room all day.”

“I guess.”

“And you’ll probably know a bunch of kids from baseball.”

“True.” They looked up as the street light clicked on. “I wish it wasn’t so early. I’ll have to leave for the bus right when Sam is getting up.”

“You get out earlier, too, though. And there’s that nice baseball field,” Cas added, thinking of the athletic campus in the shared space between the junior and senior high schools.

“Yeah, but junior high still plays at the park by us. That’s for high school. Or ninth grade if you make JV.”

“You will,” Cas said. “You’ve made all-stars the past two years.”

“Maybe,” Dean said, but Cas could see he was pleased.

On the first day of school, Cas met Dean at the end of his driveway. Mary called goodbye from where she stood on the front porch in her bathrobe. They met Charlie and walked to the top of the hill where the bus collected kids from both sides of the neighborhood. Gabe was there, standing with a group of boys. Dean walked over to stand with them, but Charlie was in the midst of telling a story about a game she played at camp, and Cas stood with her. 

When the bus rolled up a few minutes later and squealed to a stop in front of where they stood, Cas followed Charlie up the steps. She dropped into a seat halfway back and Cas tucked into the seat behind her. She turned sideways, with her back against the window and her legs criss-crossed on the seat so they could continue talking. 

Dean climbed on board and Cas watched as he came down the aisle, hitching his backpack higher on his shoulders. He caught Cas’s eye and Cas tipped his head to indicate the empty half of his seat, but Gabe shoved him forward. “Don’t sit with  _ girls. _ Baseball team’s in the back.”

The excitement Cas felt at starting junior high rapidly dwindled. While he’d always assumed he and Dean didn’t spend a lot of time together at school because of their different classes, this new setting didn’t seem to make much of a difference. They still walked to the bus stop together most days, but it was in a sleepy, mostly silent haze. Dean was always friendly to him, always said hi in the halls, but the summer days of spending hours together seemed more like a distant memory than a month or so ago.

It was funny, Cas thought when he settled into his seat one day in late October. Nobody ever discussed it, but there were unwritten rules about bus seats. Once your spot was chosen, that claim was noted and respected. If your group had four seats, you might mix and match within them, but you wouldn’t cross into a fifth seat or suddenly take four seats elsewhere. Everything was decided before the first week of school had come to a close. Same with where to stand at the bus stop: the boys were supposed to stand on one corner and the girls at the other. By standing with Charlie that first day, Cas had apparently committed an unforgivable sin and, even though he generally walked to the bus stop with both Charlie and Dean, Gabe hassled him every time he tried to stand with the boys. Charlie didn’t care where he stood, but standing on the girl side seemed to make things worse, so most days Cas stood on the boy’s side but removed from the group, pulling a book out of his backpack to read. 

On a day that Charlie stayed after school for band practice, Cas got off the bus and waited for Dean to join him so they could walk home together. But when the group of kids unloaded and the bus pulled away, Dean wasn’t with them. Cas stared after it, confused. He’d definitely seen Dean get on. 

“Missing your boyfriend?” Gabe cooed in his ear.

Cas considered a handful of responses, but he knew better than to engage, so he kept his head held high and walked away.

“He didn’t deny it!” Gabe and his friends high-fived and laughed uproariously before scattering in different directions to head home. 

The next morning Dean explained that he’d ridden the bus to the stop closest to the elementary school so that he could walk Sam home. 

“Why?”

“My mom was sick.”

“Oh.” The corner was in view by now. “Is she better now?”

“Yeah,” Dean said, running off the catch the ball Gabe threw at him. 

It wasn’t like Cas didn’t have other friends. He had Charlie, of course, and Iniais and Hannah and Samandriel. He had people to walk through the noisy, crowded halls with, and a group to sit with at lunch. His classes kept him busy even if they didn’t exactly challenge him, and he filled his after school time with things like math club and backstage crew for the school play. He was busy and involved but it wasn’t the same. He missed the easy hours spent in Dean’s company, the feeling he got when they explored the woods with no agenda other than being together, knowing that something stupid would make them laugh so hard that they’d have to sit down in the grass until it passed. He missed the inside jokes and Sam tagging around reminding Dean that he was forever in Cas’s debt whenever Dean argued about the rules of a game they invented or who got the last piece of gum. 

They still had some of those days. Sunday afternoons, usually, if homework was finished and the weather cooperated, but they were few and far between, and it was often Sam who initiated them by coming down to knock on the Novaks’ door. 

“Why don’t you go up and see if Dean is free?” Naomi suggested more than once when she’d find him flopped on his bed, staring out the window.

“He’s probably busy,” Cas said.

“Or he’s sitting around at home waiting to be asked,” Naomi replied, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

Cas didn’t know how to tell her that it was better if Dean came to him. Over time, it seemed that Castiel’s presence at the Winchesters’ door was unwelcome. The days of him being enthusiastically invited in had been replaced with Dean stepping outside, the door held mostly closed behind him, to exchange a few words on the porch. More often than not, Dean would say he couldn’t come out, but if he could, he’d tell Cas to wait for him down at the climbing tree. After enough instances of that, it was easier to wait for Dean to show up down the street. 

“Don’t be so stubborn waiting for him to come to you,” Naomi said, with her usual attempt to smooth his unruly hair. “Dean needs a friend even if he doesn’t always know how to show it.”

“Dean  _ has _ plenty of friends,” Cas said, and it came out a little more bitterly than he’d intended. But that was part of the problem. Dean was always surrounded by a group of kids: the baseball kids, the other jocks, the popular girls. Their crowd could be so loud and obnoxious—there was always a boy making a girl shriek and giggle— that if Cas didn’t know Dean the way he did, he would’ve probably written him off just by association.

Naomi sighed. “That doesn’t mean he doesn’t have room for you, too. People have different types of friends throughout their lives, but there’s something special about the ones who really know you.” 

Cas turned away from his mother and buried his face in the pillow. There was something else. He was pretty sure that if Dean  _ really _ knew him, he wouldn’t want anything to do with him. Cas worried that maybe Dean  _ did _ know, because that would certainly explain why Dean could barely find time for him and why he kept him out of his house, maybe away from his dad. Because sometimes Cas found himself making excuses to touch Dean, throwing grass at him just so he could pick it out his hair or putting an unnecessary hand on his arm to get his attention. He found himself keeping a mental scorecard of how many times Dean initiated physical contact, trying to find meaning in a punch to his shoulder or Dean pushing past him when they raced to the creek. It was distracting and exhausting and as many times as Cas swore to himself that he would keep that particular impulse under wraps, the next time they were together found him stealing Dean’s baseball cap and running off so that Dean would chase him and wrestle it back. Sometimes he cringed, embarrassed at his own behavior, feeling as obvious as the shrieking girls in the lunchroom that he judged so harshly. 

Oftentimes, when he lay in bed at night waiting to fall asleep, he would remember the day he pulled Dean out of the creek. He remembered how it felt to have Dean’s body sprawled across his. He remembered how Dean had looked so frightened until Cas had jumped into action. Sometimes he imagined different endings. Maybe it was somehow winter and Cas had to pull off Dean’s wet clothes, hugging him close to keep his shivering body warm. Maybe he hadn’t gotten there quickly enough and Dean had gone under the water. Maybe he would pull Dean out and have to give him mouth-to-mouth to get him breathing again. In his mind, he created more and more elaborate scenarios, where he pounded on Dean’s bare chest and sealed their mouths together until Dean heaved a gasping breath and his eyes fluttered open. He might reach for Cas then, pulling him close and thanking him with a kiss. 

Cas only let himself have these thoughts when he was alone in his room. He knew they were wrong and potentially dangerous. Nearly every day, Gabe or one of his friends called Cas names. How did they know? What was Cas doing that made this clear to them when Cas had only recently figured it out for himself? 

One recent Sunday, Dean had come down the street and climbed the tree, waiting for Cas to see him. He wore a hooded sweatshirt, even though the day was warm, and he leapt down from his favorite branch before Cas was all the way across the street. 

“Let’s go,” he said, smoothing his hand over the front of his sweatshirt. 

Cas followed him but Dean didn’t lead them to their usual spot by the creek. He stepped over some fallen logs and moved toward a place where the trees grew more closely together, leaving the air cooler. 

Cas scurried to keep up with him. “Where are we going?” 

Apparently satisfied with the secluded spot, Dean turned to him with a triumphant smile. “Look what I found in the garage. It was under a bunch of folded tarps.” He reached into the front pocket of his sweatshirt and pulled out a carefully rolled up magazine. Cas saw a half-naked woman on the front. “You gotta see this.”

Dean sat with his back to a tree and motioned for Cas to join him. Turning the pages carefully, Dean looked at the pictures, commenting as he did. “Oh my god, she’s so hot. Jesus, look at those tits.” 

Cas hunched forward to look more closely. He knew what he was supposed to think and feel and say, but as Dean leafed through each page, he realized with a sickening twist of his stomach that he just...didn’t. Dean was getting more and more animated, but there was something wrong with Cas. Something that made him have to pretend, something that made him more distracted by the way Dean’s leg was pressing against his than by the glossy photos of undressed women. He swallowed around the bitter taste in his mouth and made himself agree with Dean, forcing out appreciative noises, and even barking a laugh when Dean pretended to pinch one woman’s nipples. 

“I like her best,” Dean decided, opening up the centerfold to a topless woman with big brown eyes and a cascade of blonde hair. “What about you?”

“She’s nice,” Cas said. 

“Too bad, I called her first.” He shoved the magazine into Cas’s hands. “Find your own.”

Cas turned back through the pages, conscious of Dean leaning into him as he continued to look, his breath warm on the side of his face. Cas settled on a picture of a woman with her hands crossed almost shyly in front of her bare breasts. “Uh, her, I guess.”

“Yeah, she’s good.” Dean took the magazine back. 

‘When’s your dad coming back?”

“Tomorrow.”

“You’d better put that back before he does.”

“I know. I will. There were more there too so he’d probably never miss it.” 

“What if this one’s his favorite?”

Dean made a face of horror. “What if that same girl is his favorite? Oh my god, that’s disgusting.”

Laughing, Cas clapped a hand over his own mouth. “That’s so gross.”

“Hey, Cas.”

“What?”

“Do you think your dad ever looked at a magazine like this?”

“Dean!” Cas couldn’t even conjure the image of his father browsing a rack of girly magazines at a store. “Maybe only if somebody put it with the Scientific Americans by mistake.”

“I bet your dad’s so fancy he looks at the boobs in National Geographic.”

_ “Dean!” _ Cas said again, laughing this time. “Shut up.”

“Make me.” Cas snatched the magazine out of his hands. “Oh my God, don’t rip it!”

“I’m gonna go knock on your door and give this to your mother.” He danced out of Dean’s reach as he tried to get it back. “Sorry, Mrs. Winchester, I’m all out of banana bread, but would you like  _ this _ ?”

“I’ll tell her it was yours.”

“Who do you think she’s gonna believe? I’m a nice boy who goes to church. You’re a—” He cut off when Dean slammed him against a tree trunk. Cas laughed, giddy with the attention and contact. A rush of excitement flowed through him, every part of him alert and nearly buzzing, all the things he should’ve felt before but didn’t. Still, he held the magazine out to the side, leaving Dean pressed against him until he could wrestle it away. When he had it, Dean smoothed the cover and rolled it up again, tucking it safely back into his sweatshirt. With one last shove to Cas’s chest, he led the way out of the forest. 


	6. Chapter 6

# PART TWO (1995 - 1996)

“So, the musical next fall is going to be Oklahoma?” Charlie asked as the three of them walked back from the bus stop together one early spring day.

“Yeah,” Cas confirmed. “They’re having auditions in June but crew doesn’t have anything to do until school starts up again. You should try out.”

“Oh my God, not me. I can’t sing.”

“Have you been to our other shows? That doesn’t necessarily stop people.” 

Charlie and Dean both laughed at that. 

“You should audition, Dean. They always need more boys.” Cas knew he’d never say yes, but he couldn’t resist the selfish thought of having Dean there every day after school with him.

“Yeah, because it’s super gay,” Dean said, laughing.“Honestly, do I look like this to you?” He tossed his hair and swished back in forth in front of them, limp-wrist and all. 

Cas stood as still as he could, trying to figure out what to do with his face. He wanted to laugh, to show Dean that it didn’t bother him, but he couldn’t quite seem to make it happen. While his mind was scrambling, Charlie stepped into his field of vision, shoulders squared and mouth tightly set.

“God, Dean, that’s so rude. Gay people don’t look like that. They look like—” Cas’s heart skipped a beat. Had he been that obvious? He held his breath, waiting for Charlie to out him. Time slowed down as he waited for his life to change with one word. His mom was a qualified teacher, maybe she’d agree to homeschool him. But Charlie shook her head in disgust. “They just look like _ people. _” She turned on her heel and stomped off. 

“It’s a_ joke, _ Charlie. Jeez,” Dean called after her, turning to Cas for verify his _ what is her problem look. _ “She must be on the rag.” 

Cas glared at him, then took off after Charlie, trotting to catch up with her at the edge of the woods. 

“Sorry,” she said, but she kept her eyes on the ground. At sixteen, she’d recently cut her long red hair short and she ran her fingers through it. 

Cas sat next to her, his adrenaline still pumping. He was terrified to say anything, but he was so tired of keeping it to himself. The weight of his secret seemed to hang over him all the time. “You, too?” Cas said quietly.

“Yeah, me. Like it’s not a huge deal but—wait, what?” Her eyes were huge as she looked at Cas.

He shrugged. “Yeah. Um. I mean, I’m pretty sure.” 

She followed his gaze, focused as it so often was on Dean. “Oh man,” she said, laying a hand heavily on his shoulder. “Good fucking luck with _ that. _”

Cas couldn’t help it. The relief and absurdity flowed together and he started to laugh. 

“Is there something in the goddamn water around here?” Charlie managed, before doubling over, covering her face with her hands. 

Dean watched them, idly stripping bark from a branch, before rolling his eyes and heading toward them. 

“Oh my God,” Cas whispered, wiping at his eyes with the cuff of his shirt. “What do we do?”

“What’s so funny?” he demanded.

Charlie literally snorted. When she finally stopped laughing enough to speak, she said, “Nothing. Cas and I are just starting a club.”

“Let me guess. The We Hate Dean Winchester Club?”

“We could never hate you,” Charlie assured him. “Could we, Cas?” She elbowed him in the ribs. Hard. 

“Of course not, Dean,” he said with exaggerated seriousness before dissolving into laughter again.

Dean finally gave up and walked away. Cas looked at Charlie, his face aching from smiling. He felt light and giddy, like he could float above the treetops. She regarded him with an appraising look, eyes squinted and jaw working. “I have an idea,” she said.

“God help me,” Cas said. “You are not playing matchmaker.”

“No, no. Nothing like that. Well, not exactly.”

When she told him what she had in mind, Cas laughed, but the more she talked, the more sense it made. He couldn’t find any fault with it and, after a lengthy discussion, he agreed and they put the plan into motion a few weeks later. 

“Oh my god, _ yes! _” Charlie practically squealed in the hallway during lunch. It was so unlike her that Cas was sure nobody would buy it. She covered her mouth with her hands. “Sorry. But yes, I’d love to.”

Cas smiled at her, unsure of what else to do. Suddenly she flung her arms around him. People were definitely noticing. 

“What’s up?” Dean asked, stopping on his way out of the cafeteria. 

“Cas asked me to the spring dance!”

Cas knew his eyes should be on Charlie, but he watched as Dean’s face changed, his lips parting into a small, surprised circle. “He did? You did?”

He didn’t have to fake a blush now that Dean’s focus was on him. “Yeah,” he said, with a small shrug. 

“Cool,” he said, although he still looked confused. “I didn’t know you...but hey, that’s cool.”

“You’re going with Lisa, right?” Cas knew he was. In an act of what Cas considered stunning bravery, Dean had asked her in front of a group of her girlfriends.

“We should all go together,” Charlie suggested while Cas prayed for the bell to ring. 

“Yeah,” Dean agreed. “We should.”

It took Cas three more days to tell his parents about the dance. Part of him knew he could come clean to his parents. They had always been tolerant and accepting, his dad even laughingly referred to their place of worship as the “church of we love everybody.” Even if he hadn’t learned from that, their response after John’s tirade that night years ago was enough to solidify it. Nonetheless, as much as he hated keeping the secret, putting it out there for his parents to deal with felt even worse. He’d managed to keep it hidden this long and, when he saw how happy his mother was at the news that he and Charlie were going to the dance together, he felt sure he’d made the right decision. Besides, even if he hadn’t told them the truth, he was no longer keeping it to himself because now he had Charlie to talk to. Even better, as word got around the school that they were dating, Cas found that the name-calling dropped off. It had been going on for so long that Cas hadn’t realized how much he’d braced himself against it in the school hallways and bathrooms until it died down. He should’ve felt bad when Gabe and his crew found another awkward boy to torment, but the truth of the matter was he was relieved to be out of their crosshairs. 

A few weeks later, he found himself dressed in a suit, standing with his arm around Charlie’s waist as their parents took pictures in her living room. Dean and Lisa were there as well, along with their parents, creating a noisy, festive atmosphere that left Cas feeling like he wanted to climb out of his own skin. Dean looked uncomfortable in his dress shirt and slacks, a tie that was almost certainly his father’s knotted around his neck. He tugged at his collar and twisted the button at his cuff nervously until Cas pulled him aside. “This is what you get for never dressing like an actual human being.”

“Are girls really worth it if you have to wear this crap?” Cas followed his glance to where Lisa and Charlie stood together, admiring the corsages their dates had managed to pin on them. Gay or not, Cas could appreciate how pretty Lisa was, with her shiny hair and big dark eyes. “I nearly stabbed her with that pin.”

Cas laughed. “Nobody warned me about that part. Even in that dress, I think Charlie would’ve kicked my ass if I’d jabbed her.”

“Yeah, she would’ve. Hey, she looks like an actual girl tonight.”

“Tell her that if you want to take your life in your hands.”

“You’d let your girlfriend hit me?” 

Cas swallowed down the instantaneous denial. “You act like it would be the first time.”

Beaming at them, Mary beckoned them over. “Let’s get some pictures of you two handsome young men.”

They posed for the cameras, and when Dean stopped to straighten Cas’s flipped over tie, Cas felt the press of his fingers long after they were gone.

While the kids stood in a cluster waiting for John to drive them to the dance, the parents talked and laughed. Cas met Charlie’s eyes when he heard their parents joking about where they’d spend Christmas once they were married, and when she took his hand in solidarity, he couldn’t decide if he felt better or worse. 

The dance wasn’t much different than the ones he’d attended without a date. He still stood with the same group and talked to the same people, but now, when the slow songs played, Cas led Charlie to the center of the gym where crepe paper streamers and big tissue paper flowers hung from the ceiling. Copying the other couples, Cas put his hands on Charlie’s waist and she put hers on his shoulders, and they swayed in a small circle. Dean, his shirt now untucked and his sleeves rolled up, danced with Lisa. He was singing softly along with the music, his arms wrapped securely around her waist. Cas watched him over Charlie’s shoulder as they danced. 

“I guess he’s pretty good-looking,” Charlie said, “I mean if you like that kind of thing.” 

Cas made a small whimpering sound just as Dean looked over and caught his eye, smiling. Cas smiled back and pulled Charlie a little closer. 

“Dating” Charlie was easier than Cas had imagined. Having been friends for so long, he was already comfortable around her and, honestly, other than the occasional hand-holding or standing with an arm slung around her shoulders, not a lot changed between them. 

It was clear that their parents had discussed the issue, though, because when Cas reported the guidelines his mother had given him about when and where they could spend time together, Charlie got the identical guidelines the very next day. She looked absolutely delighted as she reported this while they sat on her front porch one afternoon. 

“Did you act surprised?”

“Well, first I tried not to laugh, but then I decided to play it up. I argued back and accused them of not trusting me. And when that didn’t work, I accused them of not trusting _ you. _ I’ll give them credit though, they didn’t budge an inch.”

“Of course not,” Cas said. “Otherwise they would’ve had to answer to my parents.”

Charlie laughed. “And _ then _ I told them they were ruining my life and I stomped upstairs and slammed my door.”

Cas, who had accepted his parents’ guidelines without question, looked at her in amazement. “You did not.”

“I sure did.” She looked decidedly smug. “It was actually really fun. Maybe I’ll try out for the musical after all.”

They were both still laughing when Dean wandered over. Instead of joining them on the porch like he normally would, he stopped at the bottom of the steps, his hands jammed in his pockets. “Hey.”

Cas couldn’t help it, he shifted a little bit away from Charlie, who was narrowing her eyes at Dean. “Are you being weird about this?”

Dean held up his hands. “No. I mean, I don’t want to be in your way if you guys want to be alone or whatever.”

Charlie sighed the sigh of the long-suffering. “Cas and I aren’t the type to abandon our friends just because we’re dating. Right, Cas?”

“Right.”

“Ok,” Dean shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Ok, well.”

Cas rolled his eyes and moved closer to Charlie to make room on the step for Dean. “Get up here.”

Cas stopped onto his porch, hidden from view. It was after midnight on a still-warm summer night and all the lights in his house were off. He hadn’t expected anyone else to be out, but he heard them before he saw them, hushed voices and a burst of lilting laughter. As he tried to find the source of the sound, they came into view, stepping out of the woods near the climbing tree to stand under the halo of the streetlight on the corner. Dean kissed Lisa once, twice, then she pulled him in for one more lingering kiss before walking down the dirt road, turning back to wiggle her fingers in a little wave. Dean stood for a moment, watching until she was out of sight before walking back up the street.

“You could’ve at least walked her home,” Cas said, moving down the front walk.

“Jesus Christ,” Dean said, startling, a hand flying to his own chest.

“Sorry,” Cas said, 

“Been spying on us?” 

“Hardly.”

“What are you even doing out here?” 

“There’s a meteor shower tonight. I came out to try and see it.”

“Oh yeah?” Dean crossed from the street into the front yard, craning his neck to look up at the sky.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to see anything, but I’m going into the backyard to get away from the streetlight.” Dean fell into step beside him and they walked through the side yard into the back, letting the house itself come between them and the glare of the light.

Cas unfolded the blanket he was carrying and spread it on the ground. Without invitation, Dean lay down, stretching out with his hands folded behind his head. Cas sat carefully next to him. 

“What time do you have to be home?”

Dean shrugged and made a small dismissive noise. “My dad’s actually home tonight and Sam’s at Kevin’s. The later I’m out, the better.”

“How’s your mom doing?” Dean had made the all-star baseball team again this year, but Mary had missed the last game with another headache. John had been there, though, and taken Cas along with Dean and Sam out for ice cream after the victory. 

“‘Bout the same,” Dean said quickly. “Hey, you ever take Charlie back there?” He tipped his chin up, indicating the direction they’d come from.

“She’s been to the woods plenty of time,” Cas answered cagily.

Dean made a face. “You know what I mean.”

“That’s not…really our thing,” Cas finally said.

“What, nature? Or fooling around? Wait, is that one?” Dean asked, pointing to the sky.

Cas tried not to laugh. “That would be an airplane, Dean.”

Dean studied it. “I guess the blinking lights should’ve been a hint.”

“That’s the flight path to the Wichita airport, you idiot.” 

“Where should I look?” 

“Up.”

“Very helpful.”

Cas pointed toward the north to help him get his bearings. “The Perseids are named for the Perseus constellation.”

“Wait, which one is that?” Dean asked. 

It was too tricky with them at different vantage points, so Cas gingerly lay down alongside him, stretching out one arm toward the sky. “Ok, first find Cassiopeia. It kind of looks like the number three.”

Dean moved his head a little closer to Cas’s. “Oh yeah, I see it now.”

“Ok, now down and to the east, do you see that bright star?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s part of Perseus. He’s supposed to be a warrior, carrying the head of Medusa in his left hand.”

“I see....a blob of stars.”

“Yeah. Some of these are a bit of a stretch. But at least you’ve got the general direction.”

“So, now we just wait?”

Cas swallowed hard. “Yes.” 

They lay there in silence, Cas feeling the warmth radiating off of Dean’s body. As convenient as it was to have Charlie as his “girlfriend”, it only took one chance encounter with his best friend to remember how monumental the lie he told himself—and everyone else—was. As Dean made himself comfortable, Cas felt a surge of anger, a hot stabbing at the way Dean just presumed to move into his personal space, flinging himself down onto the blanket, sprawling loose-limbed, taunting Cas with everything he could never have. Cas gritted his teeth against the mounting wave of frustration, and felt it course through him, making him tremble.

“You cold?” Dean sat up and unzipped his hoodie, laying it over them, scooting closer so they were both somewhat covered by it. 

Cas held his breath. They were touching now, pressed together at shoulder and hip. Their arms lay side by side, backs of hands touching. Cas imagined their fingers intertwining, as easy as breathing, but at the moment Cas couldn’t do either. He lay still, desperate neither to move closer or break away. Dean’s body language was open and relaxed, seemingly unaware of the effect his proximity was having.

“When I was with Lisa tonight—” Dean began.

“Jesus, spare me the details,” Cas broke in.

“I don’t mean like  _ that, _ ” Dean said, elbowing him best he could in the limited space.

Cas looked at him with raised eyebrows. 

“Okay, there was a little bit of that, but that’s not what I was going to say.” Dean’s mouth pursed into a pout. It was a good look on him. 

Cas turned his attention back to the sky. “Go on.” 

“I took her down to the creek and I told her the story about when it flooded and I fell in and how you pulled me out.”

“Shared your ‘near-death’ experience? She must’ve been putty in your hands,” Cas said, trying to keep the bitter edge out of his tone.

“I told her how Sam made us pledge our eternal bond with those stupid marbles.”

“You  _ are _ forever in my debt,” Cas reminded him.

“I’ll never hear the end of that, will I?” Dean laughed. “I swear, Sam would’ve married us right then and there if he could’ve.”

Cas felt the warmth in his chest evaporate, and he waited for Dean to pull away and sit up. Hell, this whole thing was probably nothing but a joke that would be revealed when Gabe jumped out of the bushes. But Dean stayed where he was. 

Cas chewed the inside of his cheek as his mind raced for something to say. Finally he cleared his throat. “Sometimes you see them better when you don’t look directly at them.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“The meteors.” 

“That makes zero sense. How can you see them without looking at them?”

Cas explained about rods and cones and light receptors, grateful for words and science to grasp onto. When he finished, he felt Dean’s warm breath on his neck. Heart pounding, he turned his head, just enough to see Dean’s face. Any further and their mouths would be nearly touching. Cas’s limbs went heavy with a mixture of disappointment and relief. Dean was asleep, his head tipped toward Cas. Cas lay as still as he could until he was sure Dean would stay asleep. Then he rolled onto his side and pushed up on one elbow to look at him. His long lashes curved onto his cheek and his lips were slightly parted. When Cas moved, the hoodie moved with him and he could see that both of Dean’s arms were drawn into his chest, one fist clasped in the other hand. Cas smiled to himself in the dark; Dean had always slept like that. When they were little, Cas used to reach down to where Dean slept on the floor, seeing how many stuffed animals he could tuck between his elbows and his body before he woke up. Cas tugged the jacket back up to cover Dean, then stayed there, one hand hovering in the air above him. He wondered what it would feel like to smooth a hand over Dean’s hair or to trace a line with his fingertips from temple to jaw to chin. After a long while, he sighed and let his hand drop to Dean’s shoulder. 

“Dean.”

Dean’s eyes flew open. “Sammy?”

“No, it’s me,” Cas said softly, not wanting to startle him further.

Dean smiled. “Cas,” he said, rolling all the way onto his side to face Cas before closing his eyes again.

Cas rolled his eyes heavenward. “Not funny,” he muttered at the universe. Carefully he extricated himself out from under the jacket, sitting cross-legged beside him to shake Dean’s shoulder again. “Dean, it’s late. You should probably get home.”

Dean rolled onto his back and rubbed his eyes. He stared at the sky. “Did I miss them?”

Cas blinked at him, momentarily confused. Then he remembered and glanced to the sky. “Too many clouds,” he said. “You didn’t miss a thing.”


	7. Chapter 7

Early August found the Mapleton all-stars playing in the regional championship game. The day of the game, Cas rode his bike past the baseball field and saw a hive of activity. Fresh lines were being chalked on the field, the dugouts were being swept clean, and even the snack shack was getting the once over, all to the soundtrack of the classic rock station blasted over the PA system from the press box. Tiny American flags were planted in the grass all along the parking lot. Upon closer inspection, Cas saw they doubled as advertising, courtesy of the luxury car company that Gabe’s parents owned, the same company that sponsored the all-star team, their logo on the bright yellow caps and jerseys. Cas knew a handful of the boys on the team. Dean, of course, and Gabe, as well as a few others from their school. The rest came from neighboring schools in the district. The team had been playing well, easily cruising their way through the early rounds. Winning this game would take them to the state championships. 

Cas continued on his way to the grocery store to pick up the box of pudding mix his mother needed for the dessert she was making, then pedaled back home, the sun beating down on him as the sky remained stubbornly blue. 

“What time are you going to watch the game?” Naomi asked, tearing open the box.

“I’m heading over pretty soon. I told Charlie I’d meet her there,” Cas said.

“I’d like to watch myself,” Chuck said. “Mind if I join you?”

“I was gonna ride my bike,” Cas said.

“I’ll walk and see you there later.”

Cas looked at his father. He wore khaki pants and a bright yellow t-shirt that read _ War is not healthy for children and other living things _. No doubt that he’d wear his old floppy hat with the string that dangled under his chin to keep the sun off his head. “As long as I don’t have to be seen with you,” Cas said, mostly in jest.

“I promise not to embarrass you,” his father said. “Unless I see that you need it.” 

Cas groaned as he watched his father tuck an actual handkerchief into his pants pocket.

“Sorry we stuck you with old, uncool parents, kid,” Chuck said.

Naomi waved a wooden spoon at her husband. “Hey! Speak for yourself. I’m not nearly as old as you and I’m totally cool, right, Castiel?” Cas grabbed an apple from the bowl on the counter and took a big bite, gesturing to his full mouth as he headed toward the door. Naomi laughed, “Smart boy. Have fun!”

Cas finished the apple, tossing the core in the compost bin by the raised gardens before pulling his bike up from where he’d left it on the lawn. By the time he arrived at the park, players and spectators had started to converge and it was busy enough that he had to walk his bike. He left it at the rack and wandered closer to the field. Dean’s team was warming up, the coach hitting balls to them. As he watched, Dean dove for a grounder, snagging it easily and jumping up to throw it directly to the first baseman’s waiting glove. He brushed some of the infield track dirt off his pants, then took his cap off to smooth his hair before putting it back on again. Cas smiled to himself and tried to remember to look at some of the other players as well. He made his way slowly around the field until he saw Hannah and Inaias standing behind the bleachers. Sam and Kevin came over, each with a bag of Swedish fish. 

“My mom’s here,” Sam said, offering Cas some candy. “She gave us money.”

“Cool. Is your dad home for the game?”

Sam’s face fell. “No, he can’t get here till tomorrow.” The PA system crackled to life and Sam clutched his bag of candy to his chest. “It’s starting. C’mon Kevin.”

Hannah and Inaias left to make a candy run of their own and Cas wandered back toward the field. Mary stood next to the fence just outside the dugout talking to Dean, so Cas approached them.

“Your father got his schedule changed and he should be here, too. I haven’t told Sam yet. I thought it would make for a nice surprise.”

Dean nodded, looking pleased. “Hi, Cas!”

“Good luck, honey,” Mary said.

“I’m glad you made it,” Dean said, as she turned away. 

“Good luck, you empty-headed jock,” Cas said.

“Thanks, nerd. Hope the sunlight doesn’t burn your eyes,” Dean said, before the coach called the team to the bench.

With no sign of Charlie, Cas turned to check the bleachers to see if his dad had arrived yet, but he hadn’t. A large group of parents all sat together in the middle of the home team bleachers, their voices loud and excited. Mary sat off by herself in the corner of the top row, so Cas climbed up to sit next to her. She smiled at him gratefully. “I haven’t made it to a lot of games, so I don’t know too many of the parents,” she confessed. Just then, a woman made her way up the bleachers toward them. Everything about her was shiny: smooth, perfect hair, large jewel-encrusted sunglasses, gold hoops in her ears, and gloss on her lips. Cas recognized her as Gabe’s mom, and in her hand she held a large ribbon pom pom in the same bright yellow of the team uniform. 

“Hi, Mary,” she said. “I had these made for all the moms when they picked the all-star team, but I haven’t seen you to give you yours.” Her words were kind, but her tone made Cas sit up a little straighter. Upon closer inspection, the pom pom adorned a pin that featured a picture of Dean in his uniform. Gabe’s mom had one with her son on it pinned to her blouse. She held it out for Mary, who had to stand to reach for it. 

“Thanks,” she said. “I know I haven’t been here much, but I do appreciate it.”

“Well, you’re here for the big game, I guess,” Gabe’s mom said and Cas remembered a vocabulary word he’d learned last year: _ simpering _. She turned away and walked back down to her seat, where some of the other moms were pretending not to watch. 

Mary sat back down, the pin clenched in her hand. With her other hand she pushed her sunglasses a little further up her nose and Cas could see her blinking away tears behind them. He reached for the pin. “Do you want to wear this?”

“I guess I’m supposed to,” she said.

“Dean won’t care either way, I’m sure,” he said. “Here, how about this?” He picked up her purse from where it sat by her feet and attached the pin to the strap. 

She took the bag from him and set it next to her on the bleacher so the pin was visible. “That’ll work,” she said softly. “I guess I didn’t make the all-star mom team,” she added with a shaky laugh.

Cas leaned in conspiratorially. “Well, _ her _ kid is the biggest jerk in the whole school, so maybe it’s not a bad thing.”

Mary smiled at him, genuine and bright, and Cas felt a swoop of happiness for putting that look on her face. “I’m so glad Dean has you.” 

Cas flushed and turned to survey the field; both teams were gathered in their dugouts awaiting the official introductions. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the familiar shape of his father approaching the field, hat and all. Cas raised a hand in greeting and his father waved back. Mary followed his gaze and waved as well. His father made his way to the top row, holding tightly to the railing, the bleachers creaking as he climbed, and Mary scooted away from the end seat to give him room to sit. Cas waited until they were busy chatting to excuse himself and go find Hannah and Inais again. This time Charlie was with them. She hooked her arm through his and leaned in to whisper in his ear. “Help. New girl at two o’clock.”

Cas swiveled his head as casually as he could, scanning the crowd until he saw a trio of girls standing on the grass near the parking lot. Two he recognized from school but the third was unknown to him. He turned back to Charlie. “Where’d she come from?”

“Her name’s Gilda. Just moved in to Lisa’s neighborhood. Came from St. Louis. Look at that hair,” Charlie said dreamily.

Cas pulled her closer. “I will if you look at how adorable Dean looks in his baseball pants,” he countered.

Reluctantly Charlie tore her eyes away to look to the field where both teams were lining up on the baselines for the national anthem. “Those pants aren’t doing his bowlegs any favor.”

Cas put a hand to his chest in mock outrage. “How dare you! That’s exactly why they’re perfect.”

They spent the first part of the game half-watching and chatting. It was sometime in the fourth inning that Cas heard the unmistakable growl of the Impala and turned to see John pull in, creating a precarious parking spot for himself along the side of the road since the lot was full. He climbed out of the car with a heavy looking plastic grocery bag in one hand and a beer can in the other. 

Charlie nudged him. “This oughtta be good.”

Cas let out a long breath and watched as John walked over toward the field, calling into the dugout to Dean before turning to the bleachers. He stopped to talk to the team parents seated in the stands, half-heartedly pretending to hide the beer from view. They all laughed and greeted him warmly. He’d coached a lot of their kids when they were in the younger leagues, before his job change took away his regular hours. Finally he climbed up to sit by Mary and Chuck, the rest of the six pack clanking against the metal seat in front of him when he set it down. Cas couldn’t hear them from where he stood, but he watched as his father, smiling tightly, declined an offer of a beer. Mary pointed to the field and leaned in to talk to John, clearly filling him in on the game so far. 

Cas relaxed. Maybe it was the fact that the home team was up by two runs, but everyone seemed happy and easy-going, all pulling together as one community behind their team. “Could this be any more all-American?” Cas asked, as a little girl with pigtails walked by carefully holding a grilled hotdog in a bun. “It’s like a freaking Coke commercial.” 

“All we need is the apple pie,” Charlie confirmed. 

Cas laughed. “Don’t say that too loud. You’ll distract Dean.”

Two innings and a tying two-run homer later the mood had changed. All but the littlest kids were fully focused on the game now. The parents had gone from laughing and talking to taut silence punctuated by loud cheers or pained groans. A few parents kept up a running commentary, calling to each player as they came up to bat and loudly dissecting each defensive play. By the time Dean came up to bat, the bases were loaded with one out. John, apparently unable to sit idly by any longer, made his way down the bleachers and over to the fence near the infield line. 

“All right son, you got this,” he said, banging his palm on the chain link since he couldn’t clap with a beer can in one hand. “Base hit’s all you need.”

Dean hit the dirt off his cleats with the bat, one whack to the side of each shoe in his usual ritual, then took a deep breath and stepped into the batter’s box, bat raised over his right shoulder. He held his ground as the first pitch came in, visibly outside.

“Ball one,” called the ump.

“That’s it!” John cheered. “Walk’s as good as a hit.”

Dean took his batter’s stance again, waiting for the pitch.

“Strike,” the ump said as he swung the bat and the ball landed with a muffled thump safely in the catcher’s glove.

“That’s okay, it’s just one,” John said, continuing to talk as Dean stepped back into the box. “Take your time, Dean. Be patient. Wait for your pitch.” John called, his voice growing louder.

Cas watched the third pitch come in, straight and fast, but Dean hesitated ever so slightly, maybe trying to take his dad’s advice, before swinging at it. The late swing connected with the ball, carrying it foul. 

“Strike two!” the ump announced. 

“That was your pitch, Dean. That was it. Be on it this time. If you’re going to swing, _ swing _. Don’t play around.” 

The coach stepped closer and asked for time. The ump raised out of his crouch and put a hand up as Dean jogged toward the coach, who put a hand on his shoulder and spoke to him in low tones. Dean nodded and turned back to home plate.

“What’d he tell you, son? You’ve seen his fast ball now you know what to do. Be ready.” John’s commentary continued and Cas saw some of the parents exchange eye rolls. Mary twisted her hands together as she watched. 

Dean successfully let another ball pass, making the count 2-2. 

“This is your moment, Dean. All yours. You got this. Walk’s as good as a hit, but hell, a grand slam works too!” John laughed heartily at his own joke. 

More voices joined John’s now, positive shouts of encouragement. “C’mon Dean!” Cas and Charlie yelled. 

Again Dean hesitated and again he swung too late, a foul tip. The catcher pulled off his mask and helmet in one quick motion and scrambled to catch the ball. The umpire called the out and Dean walked back to the dugout with his head down. 

Calls of “That’s all right” and “Good try” and “Still one more out” didn’t quite drown out John’s growl of frustration. The next batter swung at the first pitch, launching it into the outfield where the center fielder only had to take a single step to his right before easily catching it to end the inning. The visiting team, along with the three stranded runners, jogged back to the dugouts for the inning change. 

John continued his noisy vigil, now with a perfect view of Dean as he played shortstop. At one point he started to walk away and Cas stopped chewing the inside of his cheek, but it was simply a trip to the trash receptacle to toss away his empty beer can. He strode right back to the fence, clapping his hands together loudly this time and yelling advice to all of Dean’s team with every pitch. He whooped loudly when a player on the other team struck out, and that was enough to have the ump walking over to the fence to warn him. John held his hands up, surrender style, and backed a few steps away, turning to wink at the home team bleachers. Cas caught movement out of the corner of his eye and saw his dad coming down the bleachers to walk towards John. 

At first Chuck simply stood quietly at John’s side, but as John began his running commentary again, Cas saw his father lean in and speak quietly to John, who listened stone-faced. Cas could feel an air of expectation hanging over the crowd as they waited for the next outburst. When it came, Chuck calmly rested a hand on John’s shoulder, but John yanked away, turning to face him, eyes blazing. For a tense moment, Cas thought John would shove his father and he took a step forward, but Charlie grabbed his arm.

Cas couldn’t hear his father’s words, but John’s were clear as a bell, carrying for the whole home crowd to hear.

“Back off. I don’t need you telling me how to raise my kid. Times have changed, _ Grandpa _, and you and your nosy wife need to stay out of our business.”

The game was still going on, but all eyes, even the players’, were on the altercation. John turned back to the game, yelling loudly in an attempt to fire up the team, but the next batter hit a blooper that the first baseman scooped up and tagged the base. A cheer of victory came from the other player’s side as the winning team celebrated.

Before the teams could even vacate the field, John was gone again, tires squealing as he drove away.

“Shit,” Cas said, under his breath.

“Yeah,” Charlie agreed.

Mary still sat alone at the top of the bleachers, head down, rummaging through her purse. The other parents stole frequent looks at her, and Cas saw Gabe’s mother huddled with a few other moms, whispering and rolling their eyes before they all stood and clapped and cheered for their team.

Cas walked around the back of the bleachers to where his dad stood on the grass. He wasn’t sure what to say, so he just stood next to him. Chuck put an arm loosely around his shoulder. “Ready to go?”

Cas could see into the dugout from where they stood. The team was milling around, gathering up their gloves and batting helmets, zipping their equipment into bags. Dean sat at the end of the bench, his head in his hands. As Cas watched, a coach came and knelt down in front of him, speaking softly. Dean lifted his head long enough to nod a few times and attempt a smile. The coach rose and clapped a hand on Dean’s shoulder before calling a few reminders to the team. 

“I’ll wait for Dean,” Cas decided. 

Chuck was silent for a moment. “You’re a good friend, Castiel.” 

Cas shrugged, feeling his face redden, and pulled out from under his father’s arm. “I’ll see you at home.”

Cas said goodbye to Charlie, then lingered at the water fountain to give himself something to do while the crowd thinned. He saw his father and Mary walking toward home, Sam trailing behind them. A few people remained, counting money in the snack shack and locking up the umpiring equipment. 

Cas slipped through the fence to where Dean still sat alone in the dugout. Green paint peeled off the wooden bench and the concrete floor was littered with the black and white shells of sunflower seeds. The air was dank and heavy from a team full of teenage boys filling a small, hot space. He sat down next to Dean.

They sat in silence for a long time, the only sound the scratching of Cas’s shoe as he toed the sunflower seeds out from under his feet. Slowly, Dean’s breathing began to even out and as Cas watched from the corner of his eye, his shoulders relaxed and he stopped twisting his hands in his lap. Finally he stood and picked up his bat from where it leaned against the dugout wall. When he started to walk off, Cas picked up Dean’s glove and hat, and followed. Dean walked onto the field and threw the bat as hard as he could, grunting as he sent it spinning like a helicopter rotor until it hit the ground, bouncing and skidding to a stop in the grass. He stood with his fists clenched and watched it land, then sighed and turned to Cas. “Let’s go.”

Dean packed up his bag while Cas retrieved his bike, walking it so they could turn together toward the road that led them home. 

“I bet my mom’s glad she came to _ that _,” Dean said as they walked.

“Not exactly a positive reinforcer,” Cas said and Dean smiled.

“I’m sorry my dad was an ass to your dad,” Dean started, but Cas waved him off.

“You don’t have to apologize.” 

“I know. It’s just…he’s not always like that, you know?” 

Cas did know. He’d known John to be friendly and funny and charming. He’d seen him play ball with his sons and include Cas just as easily. He’d seen him smile fondly at Mary and scoop Sam up and toss him over his shoulder. He’d seen him beam with pride at Dean on and off the baseball field, ruffling his son’s hair affectionately while Dean grinned. But he’d seen him drunk over the years, too. Seen him lash out in frustration over perceived slights. Seen him hold the boys up to unreasonable expectations or make lavish promises that disappeared when the alcohol left his bloodstream. 

But Cas didn’t know how to say that. He only knew how thankful he was to be able to take refuge in his own quiet, predictable home when that unpredictable John showed up. So he offered Dean what he could. 

“Do you want to come over to my house?”

“I should probably just go home.”

When they got to Dean’s house, Sam was shooting baskets in the driveway, but Cas didn’t see the Impala parked in the garage. “You hungry, Sammy?”

“Kinda.” 

“Go get the box of chicken nuggets out of the freezer.” He turned to Cas as Sam disappeared into the open garage. Dean looked like maybe he wanted to say something, but he whacked Cas lightly on the top of the head with his baseball mitt instead. “See ya, man.”

“Bye, Dean.”


	8. Chapter 8

Cas was still awake when he heard a soft clunking sound, once, and then a second time. He sat up in bed, on alert, and a moment later it happened again. It was the sound of something hitting his window, he realized. Careful not to hit his head on the eaves in the dark, he crept toward the window and tugged at the edge of the curtain to peer out. Someone stood on his darkened front lawn. 

Dean. 

Cas pulled the curtain wider and switched on his desk lamp. Dean immediately smiled and waved and, as if his hand had a mind of its own, Cas waved back. Dean beckoned him to come down and Cas held up a finger.  _ One minute.  _

Nodding, Dean moved back toward the street. 

Cas stood frozen in his room listening for any signs of life in the house, but everything stayed quiet and dark. It was Labor Day weekend, the last before Dean and Cas would start their junior year of high school. Maybe Dean had been remembering their old Fourth of July and Labor Day parties the way Cas had. Maybe the hot summer day had reminded him of the countless hours they’d spent in the woods. Even after Dean’s schedule freed up after the all-star season ended, they hadn’t had the chance to hang out much. Maybe Dean was still embarrassed about how his dad had acted. As Cas picked up his shoes and tiptoed quietly down the steps, he had a momentary thought that maybe Dean wanted to apologize to him for being distant. 

With one last look over his shoulder towards his parents’ bedroom, Cas pulled open the front door and slipped outside. Dean was across the street now, but he wasn’t alone. Cas’s heart sank as he saw Gabe and his friend Michael. Dean left them to jog over to where Cas was crossing the lawn. Even in the darkness, Cas could see the lack of coordination in his movements. The smell of alcohol greeted him before Dean opened his mouth. 

“Cas! Hey!”

Cas stopped walking. “Hello, Dean.”

“Hey, can you do me a huge favor?”

Gabe and Michael kept their distance, but their eyes were on Cas. “What did you need?”

“So.” Dean was loose and happy in a way Cas hadn’t seen in a while. It used to be so easy to put that smile on his face and, despite all his misgivings, it made Cas soften toward him. “There’s this party down by the river but we don’t have a way to get there. And I remembered you had your license already.”

“You’re asking me to drive you to the party?”

“I mean, you can come too, if you want. It’s gonna be wild. They’ve got a keg and a place for people to crash.” 

Cas felt disappointment drop like a stone in his stomach. “You want me to drive you and your friends to a party.”

“Tell him you’ll suck his dick,” Gabe yelled and Michael laughed like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. 

“Ignore him, he’s an asshole.” Dean turned to yell at Gabe. “Shut up, you asshole.” Gabe, completely unchastened, responded with a jerk off motion. 

At the increased noise, Cas looked back toward his own house, but nothing had changed. “Sorry, my parents would kill me if they found out.” It wasn’t what he wanted to say. He wanted to grab Dean by the shoulders and shake him, shake the alcohol out of his system and some sense back into him. 

“They don’t have to find out,” Dean said in a stage whisper. “Just drop us off and come right back. It’ll be no time at all.”

“Sorry,” Cas said again, even as his anger heated. “I can’t.”

Dean made a noise of frustration and turned away. “He can’t.”

“Well, he can, but he won’t,” Gabe said as he and Michael approached them. Cas walked toward them if only to keep them out of sight of his house. “I knew he’d be a pussy.”

Michael took a swig from a bottle of clear liquid then offered it to Gabe who drank deeply before offering it to Dean. Dean took a long swallow, then offered it to Cas who shook his head. 

“Good, I don’t wanna get AIDS,” Gabe snorted. 

Things with Dean had been great until Gabe started coming around, always dragging Dean away, always leading him directly into trouble. Even though part of Cas knew that Dean made his own choices, he couldn’t help but remember how good things had been with Gabe out of the picture. But even as he blamed Gabe for leading Dean astray, Cas grabbed the bottle and took a drink, letting his mouth linger on the bottle. It burned and made his eyes sting but he managed not to cough as he said, “Hey, maybe try not insulting the person you’re asking for a favor.” Cas had never wanted to punch someone as badly as he wanted to hit that stupid smirk right off of Gabe’s face.

Gabe ignored him and grabbed Dean’s arm. “Let’s take your dad’s car.”

Dean doubled over laughing. “Oh my God, he’d kill me.”

“Yeah, but you know how to drive.”

“Of course I do. He taught me when I was twelve.”

“So? He’s not even in town. Let’s just take it. He’ll never know.”

Dean stopped laughing and looked like he was considering it. 

Cas’s heart began to hammer in his chest. “Dean. That’s a terrible idea.”

“We won’t stay long,” Michael said. “Or me and Gabe can get a ride home so you could leave again whenever you wanted.”

Cas grabbed Dean by the arm and tugged him away from the other two. He spoke in a low voice. “You’ve been drinking. You don’t have a license. It’s not worth it.”

Dean looked at him, eyes wide. His face was as open as it had been when he was ten years old. 

Gabe came over. “Rhonda Hurley’s gonna be there. She specifically invited you.”

“I dunno,” Dean said. 

“Rhonda Hurley?” Cas felt confusion ebb into the edge of his anger. “What happened to Lisa?” She’d been out of town visiting her cousin, but she was back. 

“We broke up.” Dean didn’t look happy or sad about it and Cas didn’t know what to think. 

“Sorry,” he said, lamely. 

“Your dad’s a jerk,” Gabe said. “He doesn’t even deserve that car.” 

Dean laughed but it was hollow. “True.” He looked up the street toward his house. “I know where the keys are.”

Cas felt a desperation clawing through him, and he said the only thing he could think to say. “I’ll tell.”

Gabe wheeled toward him. “Jesus Christ. No wonder you have no friends.”

“I have friends.”

“You’re all a bunch of freaks.” He turned toward Dean and Michael. “Let’s get out of here.” Michael fell into step behind him, but Dean stayed rooted in his place. Cas took advantage of his hesitation and pulled on his arm.

“Stay here. You can come sleep it off at my house if you want.”

Dean pulled out of Cas’s grip. “You’re such a baby. I asked you to do one thing for me.”

Cas let his arms fall to his sides. “I just don’t want you doing something stupid.”

Dean grabbed at his own hair with both hands. “I’m so fucking sick of people calling me that.”

“I didn’t say you were—“

“Don’t worry, I won’t bother you again.” He shoved past Cas, bumping his shoulder as he stalked away to follow the other boys. 

The only consolation Cas had was that they were headed toward the dirt road away from Dean’s house. He waited until they were completely out of sight to go back inside. He was sure his parents must’ve heard something, the yelling or even the frantic pounding of his own heart. He closed the front door a little louder than necessary almost hoping one of them would wake up and come ask him what was wrong. No one did. 

He climbed the stairs slowly and got back into bed. 

Cas flipped through his history textbook, filling out the question sheet, tapping his pen on the desk as he thought. He turned to the third page of questions and stretched his arms over head as he glanced over them. Turning his head from side to side to loosen the knots starting to form, something outside grabbed his attention. The climbing tree had turned russet as fall settled in, but it was a flash of blue that caught his eye. A flash of Jayhawk blue. Cas stood and looked out the window, tapping his pen on the frame, watching as the green marble trembled and threatened to roll from its perch. Sighing, he turned to the door and hurried down the stairs. Naomi looked up from where she sat reading at the table. 

“I’m going outside for a bit,” 

“With your pen?” she asked.

Ducking his head, he set it on the table. “Um, no.”

“Dinner’s at six,” she called after him.

The air was crisp and cool and Cas wished he’d thought to grab a sweatshirt, but he made his way across the street, stopping under the canopy of leaves. 

“You’re in my spot,” he said to Dean. 

Dean smiled down at him. “I don’t see your name on it.”

Cas easily pulled himself up into the tree and wedged one foot into the vee of the trunk, wrapping his arm around it to lean far into Dean’s personal space. “There,” he said, pointing to section half hidden by Dean’s hip. Dean scooched a little way along the branch, bending over to see. There, carved crudely into the wood, were the initials C.N.

“Damn,” Dean said. “I nearly forgot about that. You want it back?”

“Nah.” Cas settled into Dean’s old spot, scanning the trunk until he found the D.W. With one finger, he traced the scarred letters. “I thought you had baseball every day after school.” 

Dean reached for a twig, snapping it from the branch and pulling off the leaves one by one. “Yeah, uh, I’m actually not playing baseball.”

Cas laughed. “Yeah, right.”

“I’m not,” Dean said again, bending the twig in half until it snapped. He tossed each piece towards the ground like tiny javelins.

“Did you…” Cas began carefully. Everyone knew that Gabe had been kicked off the team for being caught with alcohol at a football game. 

“I just decided I didn’t want to play this year,” Dean said, as he started in on another twig.

“Wow,” Cas managed.

“It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Well, considering the very first thing you ever said to me was about baseball and you’ve basically lived and breathed it for as long as I’ve known you, I’d say it’s fairly newsworthy.” Cas stopped, considering. “How’s your dad taking it?”

“He’s not really around enough right now to have an opinion.” Cas searched his mind for a response, but Dean saved him by changing the subject. “Sam’s gonna play basketball, though. He’s actually pretty good.”

“I saw him out shooting baskets the other day. He’s gotten really tall,” Cas said, grateful for the neutral topic. 

Dean grinned. “Little shit’s gonna be taller than me if he keeps that up.”

“He wouldn’t dare,” Cas said.

They sat in silence for awhile. Cas watched the contrail of a jet melt into the washed out blue of the sky. 

“So are you done with baseball forever?” he ventured. “Or just taking a break?”

“Done,” Dean said sharply, without looking at him.

“Are you sure? I mean I bet you could always rejoin later if—“

“Or  _ maybe _ you could just believe me when I say I’m done.”

Cas stared at him. “I do, I guess I’m just surprised because—“

Dean swung himself down from the tree, landing heavily on two feet. Cas scrambled down to join him. “I’m sorry,” Cas said quickly.

“Don’t apologize,” Dean said. “I’m the one who’s been a jerk. I’m sorry about that night of the party, and I didn’t mean to come down here and fight with you again.”

Cas felt his breath hitch a little bit. They’d moved past that fight as they always did, but it helped to hear Dean say the words. “I swear I’m not trying to criticize you. I’m just trying to understand.”

Dean opened his mouth as if to speak, then stopped himself. Instead, he rubbed a hand over his face. “I’m sorry. I’ve just got a lot going on. You’ve been way nicer to me than I deserve.”

“No, it’s fine,” Cas said, even though he didn’t understand anything more than when the conversation started. He tried for a smile. “My mom tried to tell me these were the best years of my life, but I’m starting to think she’s finally going senile.”

A soft look crossed Dean’s face. “Your mom’s awesome.”

Cas hesitated. “She made brownies, you wanna come have some?”

“Cream cheese frosting?”

“Of course.”

Dean looked at Cas’s house and for a moment Cas thought he was going to say yes, but he shook his head. “I wish I could, but I gotta go home.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and walked up the street.

Gilda turned out to be a problem. 

A month or so into their junior year, Charlie slid into her usual seat next to Cas at lunch. Without a word, she folded her arms on the table and buried her face in them. Cas and Inias exchanged worried looks.

“Charlie?” Cas asked, with a touch to her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

Hannah sighed and rolled her eyes. “Tell him.”

Charlie let out a muffled groan before lifting her head. “How could she do this to me?” she said softly to nobody in particular.

Assured that there was no actual crisis, Cas went back to his yogurt. “How could who do what?”

“Gilda. Word is she’s gay.”

Cas raised his eyebrows in surprised concern. “Somebody outed her?”

“No,” Charlie said, “That’s the problem. She’s just open about it.”

“How is that a problem?” Inias asked.

“It’s a problem because she, like everyone else at this school, thinks I’m straight.”

“Not everyone,” Inias said. He lifted his juice box and Cas and Hannah touched their drinks to it in a toast.

“You know what I mean,” Charlie whined, watching Gilda stand with her tray as she surveyed the crowded cafeteria. 

“She’s in my science class,” Hannah said. “We were partners. She’s really nice.”

“Invite her to sit with us,” Cas said, and Hannah climbed out from the cafeteria table and bounded over to her. A look of relief washed over Gilda’s face as she followed Hannah and set her tray down at the table. 

“I think we have to break up,” Charlie whispered to Cas before turning to flash a bright smile and introduce herself.

Before the month was up, Charlie and Gilda were dating. Cas was happy for them, completely unsurprised at the turn of events, and only somewhat jealous. Not at the loss of Charlie, although he did miss having her around all the time, but that she was brave enough to be open and out at school. Any thoughts he had in following her lead were quickly quashed when the comments resumed, this time with a new twist.

“Your girlfriend left you for another  _ girl? _ ” “Were you so bad that she swore off men completely?” “Takes a special kind of guy to turn his girlfriend into a dyke.” “Wow, are you gay too?” “No wonder he’s always staring at Winchester.”

“Hey, shut the fuck up.” Dean pushed past the kids currently saying shit to Cas as he took books out of his locker. “You ok?”

Cas slammed the locker so hard it bounced open again. “I don’t need you to stick up for me.”

Dean’s eyes widened in shock. “I know that. I just meant....you and Charlie were together for a long time.”

“Almost six months,” Cas agreed. He was so tired of lying about everything. About the arrangement with Charlie. About himself. But here was Dean defending him, checking to be sure he was ok and, well, what was the point of honesty now. “It sucks.”

“Did you have any idea that she…?”

“I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“Sure, sure. Sorry.”

It was selfish, Cas knew, but he felt warm inside at Dean being so attentive and thoughtful. There was no way Cas could bring himself to confess that the two of them had been lying to him this whole time.

So Cas let himself enjoy the attention, maybe even moped a little and stood sadly by his locker when he knew Dean would be passing by in the hall, because sometimes Dean would tug on his sleeve and Cas would smile sadly and walk down the hall with him, grateful for the nearness even based on false pretenses. 

But this was high school and it didn’t take long for people to drag Dean into it.  _ Go kiss your boyfriend, Winchester, _ followed by kissy noises when they passed in the hallway.  _ Which one of you is the girl? _ followed by raucous laughter. One day, as they waited for the bus after school, Gabe and Michael came up behind them, wrapping them in a giant bear hug, pressing them flush together and holding them there. Cas felt the blood rush to his face and he tried not to struggle, tried to make himself as small as possible to minimize the contact until Dean did something that made Michael yelp in pain and release him. 

“Don’t be assholes,” Dean spat, shoving Michael.

“You’d know about those,” Gabe chirped, giving Cas a push in Dean’s direction. “Go reward your hero.” 

Cas wouldn’t even look at Dean. He turned to pick up his backpack and walked away to wait for the bus alone. When he got on the bus, he slid into his usual seat behind Charlie. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her face anguished, but Cas just shook his head at her and pretended to be looking for something in his backpack. He burned with shame and refused to meet Dean’s concerned eyes when he came down the aisle.

It was easier that way. If he didn’t interact with Dean, didn’t stand near him at the bus stop, didn’t walk with him in the halls, then the opportunities for the other kids to harass and tease Dean dried up. Even though the smile Dean gave him every morning as he walked past him on the way to his seat in the back had been one of the highlights of his day, now Cas kept his eyes on his book. 

He’d noticed Dean was late to school some mornings, sometimes not even showing up until after the English class they shared. Maybe that was to avoid having to deal with Cas. It was for Dean’s own good, he told himself as he gave up his usual seat at the end of the lunch table and settled on the other side with Inias. It meant he missed out on the almost-daily shoulder smacks and light slaps to the back of his head when Dean walked past, stupid little moments of contact that used to make his chest flutter with warmth, but hopefully the teasing would die down again as the opportunities disappeared. He’d dragged Dean into this mess, keeping some distance between them was the least he could do.


	9. Chapter 9

Cas was still keeping Dean at arm’s length as fall turned into winter. He kept his head down and focused on his work, grateful that winter break was on the horizon. As a result, Cas was surprised to see Dean standing by his locker one Wednesday afternoon as he left math club. In the otherwise empty hall, Cas shifted his armload of books and took a deep breath as he approached. 

“Hey, Cas.”

“Hello, Dean.” His brain spun like the dial on his locker. 

Dean rubbed at the back of his own neck, a gesture Cas was as familiar with as his own name. Whatever came next would be the truth. “I know we haven’t really talked much lately.” 

Cas busied himself swapping out the books for the ones he needed for his homework. He was as much to blame for that as Dean was, but he didn’t know where this was going so he didn’t say anything. 

“Yeah,” Dean said, mostly to himself. “I wanted to ask you something and I get it if you say no…”

As much as Cas had missed him, he felt a prickle of anger. It seemed like he never knew which Dean he was going to get: the kind and thoughtful friend or the one who put Cas in an impossible position and then lashed out. From the way he was hedging the issue, it felt like this was the end of summer party all over again. He slammed his locker shut. “What do you want?”

Dean looked down at the scuffed floor of the hallway before tentatively meeting Cas’s eyes. “Would you help me study for the English final?”

“What?” 

“The English final. If I don’t pass it, I fail this semester.”

_ You keep missing class, _ Cas wanted to say. _ What did you think would happen? _But once that initial outrage faded, he reconsidered. He knew how hard it was for Dean to ask for help, and Cas wanted him to succeed almost more than he wanted it for himself. 

“You want to study together?” 

“If you’ll put up with me. I’m free all weekend so whenever is good for you.” He gave a little half smile and Cas was lost all over again. 

“Saturday,” Cas decided. “That way if we need more time, we’ll have Sunday as well. Come to my house at like ten?”

Dean nodded, his smile brightening. “Can I get your address?” With the arm not full of books, Cas punched him in the shoulder. Dean laughed. “Want a ride home?”

“Thanks, but my mom’s picking me up.”

“Ok. I’ll see you Saturday.”

“It’s only Wednesday so I’ll probably see you before that.”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed. “Yeah, you will.”

By the time Cas made his way out the front door, Naomi was waiting. “You look like you had a good day.”

“It was fine, I guess.” He didn’t know why he was hesitating telling her. “Uh, Dean’s gonna come down on Saturday so we can study for English together.”

“Is that so?” She turned and smiled broadly. “That’s wonderful.”

Cas shrugged, even though he felt the same way inside. His mom always made such a big deal whenever he mentioned Dean. 

“I’ll bake those muffins he likes. I’ll add some walnuts and they’ll be good brain food.”

Cas rolled his eyes. “You never bake things just for me.”

“You’re not as nice to me as Dean is.” Her mouth twitched with amusement. 

“Sometimes I think you still see us as ten year olds.”

She studied him for a long moment before she pulled away from the curb. “There’s no way to separate the boys you were from the men you’re becoming. I know it’s hard to see it in yourself, but the people who watch you grow up never lose that.”

Cas pretended to bang his head on the car window. “Oh my God, how did we go from muffins to to this?”

By the time Dean showed up just before ten, Naomi had the muffins cooling on a rack. Cas couldn’t remember the last time Dean had actually been in his house and, from the way he stood awkwardly just inside the front door, it seemed he was trying to remember as well. 

“Take off your shoes,” Naomi instructed, reaching for his coat. The mid-December day was overcast and bitterly cold, and Dean’s face was red from walking even just the short distance in the biting wind. When Naomi insisted on a hug, Cas looked to commiserate with an eye roll, but Dean had his eyes shut as he hugged her tightly. “It’s so nice to have you here, honey.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Novak. I only got lost three times along the way.” 

She smiled indulgently. “I made you muffins. Did you want one now?”

“_Mom. _”

“Yes, Castiel?”

“Let him get in the door at least.” Dean grinned as Naomi stepped back. “You know she likes you better than she likes me, right? She always has.”

“Can’t help it if I’m the son she never had.”

Just then Chuck wandered in from the living room. “Dean Winchester! I remember you. Are those muffins?” 

“Hi, Mr. Novak.”

Naomi put her hands on her hips. “Now, where are you boys going to study?”

Jesus, it was going to be midnight before they escaped his parents. Cas stepped forward and tugged at Dean’s arm. “Upstairs.”

“Cas.”

“Mom, what?” Dean caught his eye, doing his best not to laugh. Cas was seventeen and Dean would be in a month, but it felt like they were twelve again, straddling bikes, anxious to go buy candy while his mother gave them last minute instructions on what time they should be home.

“Take some muffins with you.”

Dean turned back and took the plate she was holding out. “Thank you, Mrs. Novak.”

“Let me know if you want some milk, too.”

“Mom. We know where the fridge is.” Cas was going to die here and they were both going to fail English. “C’mon.”

They made it up to Cas’s room before they burst out laughing. “She’ll probably ask if you need help tying your shoes when you leave. Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Nah, it’s fine. I love your mom.” Dean looked around Cas’s bedroom. “Did this room get smaller?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what happened.” Cas might have made a mistake by insisting they come up here. Back in their sleepover days, Dean had slept on the floor next to Cas’s twin bed, but that had since been replaced with a double bed that took up most of the floorspace. “Uh, why don’t you sit at my desk,” he said, but Dean had already dropped his backpack onto the bed and was flopping down next to it. Cas swallowed hard. “If you get muffin crumbs in my bed, I will personally smother you with a pillow.”

“I wouldn’t dream of letting a single crumb go to waste.”

With the muffins wolfed down, they pulled out their books. The English grade was based on a written test but also a notebook check that ensured all previous assignments had been completed. It soon became clear that Dean had been letting the assignments slide, and he scurried to complete things as Cas worked his way down the notebook checklist. “You do get that the whole point of this isn’t to learn an entire semester in one day, right?” But he watched how quickly Dean picked up the information, how even such a small amount of effort produced acceptable—even good— work. He didn’t understand how someone so capable could let himself get so far into the weeds, but he knew better than to say so. What mattered now was that Dean was here putting in the time to get it all done. 

It was distracting to have Dean stretched out on his bed, but when he got up and started wandering around Cas’s room during a study break, Cas didn’t feel any relief. He peered at the pictures on Cas’s bulletin board. Things he’d pinned up years ago like a picture of all the kids lined up from the first Fourth of July party he’d been there for and a ticket stub from when his family took him to the science museum in Chicago. The entire upper left corner was taken up by a get well card featuring a large, lopsided turtle Sam had made when Cas had the flu when he was twelve. There were newer things too, like pictures from the spring dance and a mini constellation chart. He moved to stand behind Cas, looking over his shoulder to where the bare branches of the climbing tree swayed in the wind. 

“Do you think it’s weird to be in high school and wishing for the ‘good old days’?”

Cas considered that for a moment. “I think...we never know how good we have something until it’s over.”

“Or bad.”

“I guess.”

Dean stared out the window a little longer. “Did that tree get smaller?”

Cas snorted. “It literally got bigger. It’s alive and it grows.” Dean smiled at him, the soft one that said he liked making Cas laugh. Cas smiled back, but when he felt like he was staring too long he said, “Back to work? Or are you expecting my mom to bring you up a three-course lunch?”

Dean sat back down on the bed. “She probably would.”

“Here,” Cas said, standing up. “Take a turn at the desk.”

Cas stretched out on the bed with his books and notebook. Maybe the pillow would smell like Dean. He wanted to press his face into it, but he’d save that for later. He knew it was silly, but being able to picture Dean there, legs stretched out, taking up space like he belonged there, was going to burned into his mind for quite some time. 

Naomi did make them lunch, and insisted they come downstairs to eat it. 

“Dean, you’re going to have to come over more often,” Cas said, around a mouthful of grilled cheese sandwich. “Usually it’s peanut butter and jelly…_ that I have to make myself. _”

Naomi smiled sweetly at her son. “Self-reliance is a wonderful trait.” She saw Cas opening his mouth to argue. “As is knowing how to treat a guest.”

Cas teased his mother, but it was borderline embarrassing how she fussed over Dean. While Cas was happy he and Dean were in a good place right now, it felt like his mom wanted them to be little boys again, ready to run out the front door and climb the tree. Cas wasn’t a child. Applying to college was right around the corner and as much as he loved his life in Kansas, he was feeling ready to move on. He had his sights set on a big school, the biggest he could get into, where he wouldn’t have to hide who he was, or at least maybe not as much. It was exciting and exhilarating and a little bit terrifying. 

Dean drained the glass of milk she’d poured for him. “This is great, thank you.” 

“Did you want some more chips?” Naomi turned and reached for the bag before he could even respond. 

Dean winked at him. “Yes, please.”

Cas felt his face redden, even though it was an innocent gesture. To cover his blush, he glared back and flipped Dean off. With a fake horrified look, Dean opened his mouth as if to tattle and they both dissolved into laughter by the time she returned with the bag.

When they went back upstairs, Dean grabbed his things and joined Cas on the bed. Cas should’ve gotten up and relocated, but the shock of Dean lying beside him was too much and he froze. He remembered the night Dean fell asleep as they lay on the blanket in the yard and the way he’d savored those moments, sure it would never happen again. This was worse, much, much worse because there was no entire open sky above them, only the narrow, suffocating eaves. Cas was so used to keeping a tight lid on himself, conscious of controlling his every movement. Being gay, being bullied for being gay, whatever the people in his life knew or didn’t know, it all still added up the fact that he was always on the lookout not to do anything that could be misconstrued. 

Dean apparently had no such compunction. He let his leg fall against Cas’s, plucked the pencil right from his hand when he needed to use the eraser. Cas was sure Dean could feel the inappropriate attraction coming off of him like visible, rainbow-colored waves, but Dean seemed completely unbothered by his nearness. For a brief moment Cas entertained the thought that Dean might ace this final while Cas and his utter lack of focus bombed it. There probably wasn’t enough extra credit in the world to make up for the distraction of Dean Winchester. 

It was late afternoon when Dean’s notebook was complete and they’d both stuffed as much knowledge as they possibly could into their brains. Dean stretched, his t-shirt riding up to expose the pale skin of his stomach, and Cas leapt out of the bed. 

Dean stared at him. “You ok?”

“My leg’s asleep,” Cas lied, limping around the room a bit for effect. “Ok, so you think you’re ready? We could study some more tomorrow if you want.”

“I think I’m good,” Dean said, gathering up his things. “You saved my life today.”

“I’ll add it to the tally.”

Dean looked at him in confusion. Cas reached for the marble that still sat in his window latch. “Tell Sam I need another one.” 

“Oh my God. I can’t believe you’re still hanging on to that.”

A giddy warmth flowed through his chest at Dean remembering. “This is getting to be a habit, Winchester, and a life debt is a life debt.”

Dean threw back his head and laughed, white teeth gleaming.

Cas closed his fist, the marble cold and unyielding against his palm, and tried to laugh at the joke. 

“I do owe you, though.”

“Just don’t fail English. That’s plenty.”

“Not a chance of it now.”

Cas didn’t see Dean at the bus stop the next morning, which wasn’t that unusual. But by the time second period rolled around, Cas sat in English class, anxiously watching the door as the class filed in, each person leaving their notebooks on a table at the front of the room. Even after the teacher passed out the exams, he sat staring at the closed door, not writing a word until the teacher walked up and down the aisles, stopping to tap him on the shoulder. She nodded at his blank paper and Cas looked at it for a moment, unseeing. Then he pushed down his worry about Dean and pulled the pen cap off with his teeth, scrambling to answer the questions in the allotted time. Even as he wrote, answering question after question—all topics they had covered in his bedroom on Saturday—he was alert to any sound in the hall. He completed the exam, sitting and re-reading what he’d written while chairs scraped around him as people finished and stood, stretching their cramping hands, to turn in their papers. 

There was still time for Dean to at least show up with his notebook. Cas didn’t know if that would be enough points to keep him from failing, but the work was complete and it was something at least. All he had to do was show up and turn it in. Cas sat there until the last possible minute, still clutching his pen as the bell rang. When he walked slowly to the front of the room, the teacher looked at him kindly. 

“Everything ok, Castiel?”

He handed her his exam. “Yeah, I...I don’t know why Dean isn’t here but he and I studied over the weekend and he was ready. His notebook is done, he knew everything for the test but...I’m not sure why he isn’t here.”

She gave him a sympathetic smile. “You’re a good friend, Castiel, and I believe you, but what Dean chooses to do—or not do—isn’t your responsibility.” 

Nodding, Cas left. The rest of the morning passed in a dull haze. He tried to concentrate on his classes, but every voice seemed to drone and buzz into something he couldn’t understand. Dean had seemed so sincere, desperate to pass this test. He’d come to Cas willing and eager to learn. Maybe something was wrong, Cas thought, perking up at the thought. Maybe there’d been an emergency and Dean would have an excused absence and be able to take the test at a later date. He felt bad for being excited about this, for being cheered by a possible misfortune, but it would explain what happened at least. 

That good feeling disappeared in the middle of lunch, when he heard a burst of familiar laughter coming from the back corner of the cafeteria. He looked over his shoulder and saw Dean, settling in at his regular table, a tray in his hands. He looked like he didn’t have a care in the world and Cas’s stomach knotted so violently that he thought he might have to spit out the bite of sandwich he was chewing. 

“Oh shit,” Charlie said when she saw where Cas was looking. The whole group had been filled in when Cas sat down. “You ok, Cas?”

“I’m gonna kill him.” His friends looked up in alarm. Cas’s voice shook with emotion, but he couldn’t decide which one was to blame. “Why would he waste all my time and then blow off the test?” But it hadn’t been a waste of Cas’s time. It had been the best day he’d had in recent memory. Cas had gone out of his way to help him, his mother had baked him muffins for God’s sake. All that for Dean to treat this—as he did so many things in his life—like it didn’t matter. 

“He’s a jerk,” Hannah said, and Cas appreciated her loyalty even as he wanted to yell at her that Dean wasn’t. But everything was so tangled up in his mind right now. There were too many Deans to reconcile. The sweet and funny one who had been Cas’s first best friend. The one who sat downcast when his father drank and yelled. The one who kept throwing away his own future for no apparent reason. And even worse than the way Dean treated him was Cas’s own shame for always saying yes to him, for always making time for him even when he got nothing back but heartache and misery. Maybe Cas was overreacting. Maybe the fact that he had a crush on Dean that could most likely be seen from space was making all of this worse. But without a fucking word from him in explanation, when he couldn’t even be bothered to walk across the cafeteria to let Cas know what happened....it was a lack of common decency and it told Cas unfailingly where he sat in Dean’s estimation. 

Cas sat rigidly, not speaking or eating, for the rest of lunch. His friends talked around him, trying to include him and break the tension, but Cas couldn’t hear anything but the blood pounding in his ears. He was out of his seat at the first sound of the bell, darting for the door. He heard Charlie call his name, but he didn’t stop. Dean must’ve heard him coming because he turned toward him and Cas could swear a flicker of something crossed his face, but then that cocky grin was there again. 

“Hey.”

Cas grabbed him and slammed him against the row of lockers. He watched with great satisfaction as Dean flinched, a look of naked shock changing his features. With two hands fisted in his shirt, Cas let the anger flow through him. “What the fuck, Dean. Where were you?” They were pressed so close together but for once Cas didn’t care. He saw a glimmer of fear in Dean’s eyes and the only thought he had was _ good. _ A group was gathering around them now, people yelling and urging them on. Cas waited for Dean to fight back so that he could hit him and feel justified in doing so, but Dean stayed pliant, letting Cas shake him. “Answer me.”

Dean’s eyes went cold. “I don’t owe you shit.”

By then a teacher had pushed through the throng. “Break it up,” he yelled at Cas, pulling him away. “Get out of here,” he said to Dean. “You’re coming with me,” he told Cas. “There’s a chair in the principal’s office with your name on it.”

Cas felt all eyes on him as he was escorted to the office and left to sit in a chair across from the secretary. “Fighting,” the teacher told her and she jerked her head towards the closed office door. The teacher knocked once then stepped inside to talk to the principal privately. 

“What’s your name, son?” she asked him, her face entirely impassive. 

“Castiel Novak.” Cas still felt the anger coursing through him, and he wondered what it would feel like to pick up the plastic chair and throw it across the room. It wasn’t until he heard the secretary on the phone that he realized she was calling his mother. All of the fight drained out of him in one stomach-sickening lurch. 

He gripped the armrests of the chair, staring down at his own lap as people came and went. He heard his mother arrive before he saw her, the echo of her shoes on the linoleum a sense memory that took him back to elementary school in Illinois. She didn’t even stop to introduce herself to the secretary, coming directly to him to put a hand on his shoulder and crouch down beside him. “Castiel, are you all right?”

He had no doubt that the only scenario she imagined was one where he’d been picked on and beaten up. Maybe she expected him to have a fat lip or a black eye. She’d rushed over here worried that he was hurt, but the truth was going to be even worse. He looked into her concerned eyes and felt the weight of his own disappointment. “I’m fine.”

He heard the secretary let the principal know she were there and a moment later the door opened. Mrs. Abernathy stood, as she always did, with perfect posture, and ushered them in. 

Cas had never been inside the principal’s office before. It was bigger than he expected, and nicer. Mrs. Abernathy and his mother introduced themselves, shaking hands, before she and Cas settled into armchairs across from her desk. Cas could tell his mother was desperate for information, but she sat with her purse on her lap and waited for the principal to take the lead. Mrs. Abernathy had his file in front of her. 

“I’m sorry we’re meeting like this,” she said to Naomi. “Castiel is an excellent student and, frankly, I’m surprised to see him here today.” Naomi looked at him, but he kept his eyes on the floor. “However, fighting is a serious offense and your lack of disciplinary action in the past doesn’t mean we can let it slide.”

“Of course not,” Naomi agreed. “I notice he’s the only one here?”

“All reports are that he was the instigator.”

“I see,” she said, her voice tight in a way that told Cas she didn’t see at all. “And the other person involved…?”

He felt both of their eyes on him and knew there was no way out of this one. “Dean.” 

“Oh, Cas.” She said it softly, gently, like her heart was broken, and Cas instantly had to blink back tears.

“Is this something we need to bring Mr. Winchester in to resolve?”

“No,” Cas said. 

“Is this something we need to worry about happening again?”

“No.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” Mrs. Abernathy steepled her fingers on the desk in front of her. “You’ll be applying to colleges soon, Castiel. Now, as long as we can agree that this was an isolated incident, we can make sure it doesn’t appear on your record, but there will be some consequences.” 

Cas only half-listened as they spoke. He’d be sent home for the rest of the afternoon with an unexcused absence. There’d be a day of in-school suspension. He didn’t care anymore. None of it mattered. Dean hated him and his mom was disappointed in him and no punishment they could give him would be worse than that. 

They let him go to his locker and get his things and, with class in session, he walked along the mostly empty corridors, catching snippets of voices from the rooms he passed. His mother and the principal were still speaking when he returned, but the conversation cut off quickly when he arrived. They walked in silence to the car and Naomi didn’t say a word until they were driving. 

“What happened, honey?”

He didn’t want her to be nice. Or understanding. He wanted her to yell so that he could harden himself against the onslaught, creating a shell of anger to project back at her. This kindness, this concern...it was too much. If he gave into it, there’s no telling how or where he would stop. Years of things he’d kept to himself might come pouring out and he wasn’t about to let that happen. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her start to reply, but she stopped herself, pressing her lips together instead. He knew his parents were older, but as he glanced at her, it was the first time she really looked _ old _ to him. He’d done that to her. He clenched his hands into fists, digging his nails into his palms until the sob that threatened to push its way out of his throat subsided.


	10. Chapter 10

If Cas thought keeping his head down to protect Dean was bad before, it was nothing compared to the cold, hostile silence between them now. It wasn’t the outcome Cas wanted. He’d realized pretty quickly that no matter what had gone wrong the day of the English test, there was no excuse for how he’d reacted. He had every intention of apologizing the next chance he got, but Dean had looked him in the eye, then turned and walked in the other direction when he saw Cas approach. After that, Cas didn’t bother. He changed the routes he took between classes, doing his best to keep their paths from crossing. No matter what he did, though, the school day meant there were unavoidable instances when they were forced to be in the same room. He felt Dean’s presence at those times, always aware of him in his periphery even though they’d stopped acknowledging each other.

They still weren’t speaking on a wintry day in late February when a knock on the door during English class interrupted the lesson. The teacher paused, glancing through the rectangular window in the door before waving in the student who stood there. She came in bearing a folded slip of paper. Three seats behind him, Cas heard Dean sigh as she handed it to the teacher; it wasn’t unusual for him to be summoned to the office this way for his unexcused tardiness. The teacher unfolded the note and read it, her eyes darting to their side of the room, before walking purposefully down the row to stop in front of Cas.

“Castiel, you’re wanted in the office.” Cas blinked at her. “Please take your things.”

He could feel all eyes on him as he closed his book and notebook and stuffed them into his backpack. He made his way to the office, unsure of what to do once he got there but, unlike the last time, the secretary looked at him with big, sympathetic eyes as he approached. Before either of them could speak, Mrs. Abernathy was there to usher him into her office.

“What’s going on?” The room looked the same as last time, but not knowing what was happening made it feel too small, and he refused her offer to sit. 

The principal didn’t sit either, standing instead by the closed door. She took a deep breath before she spoke, and her voice, which easily commanded attention at assemblies, was gentle. “Castiel, your father is in the hospital. He collapsed at work and they took him by ambulance.” 

_ Oh, _ Cas thought, as he wobbled where he stood.  _ Your knees really do go weak. That’s a thing that actually happens.  _ He forced himself to focus on Mrs. Abernathy’s voice.

“Your mother is there now and she’s sent for you.”

“I don’t—“ Cas began, thinking that he didn’t know the way to the hospital. He could picture the large, red brick building, but he couldn’t think of how to get there. Outside, the snow was falling thick and wet. He wished he’d worn boots, but he didn’t know he’d be walking in the snow.

Mrs. Abernathy crossed to him and put a reassuring hand on his wrist. “I’ll drive you there.”

“Oh,” Cas nodded. “Okay. Thank you.” The hand on his wrist felt like it was choking him, and he worked his hand free to push through his hair. “Should we go now?”

“Let’s stop at your locker and get your coat first.”

He nodded and blindly followed her out to the hall. His hands fumbled and it took him two tries to get the combination right. When he got his coat, Mrs. Abernathy still stood there, waiting, like it was any other day. LIke his life hadn’t been turned upside down with a single slip of paper. Finally, she tapped lightly on his backpack strap and he realized he was still clutching his coat in his hands. Hurriedly, he shrugged off his backpack and put on his coat, following Mrs. Abernathy down the hall and through the door to the teachers’ parking lot. 

While Mrs. Abernathy’s jeep made steady progress along the slushy roads, Cas stared at the falling snow, letting his vision blur as the slight squeak of the wipers accentuated the droning voices on the talk radio station. Mrs. Abernathy didn’t try to talk to him other than to mildly suggest he set down his backpack instead of hugging it to his chest. He shook his head; it felt safer this way, and he tightened his grip on it to keep himself from yelling at her to drive faster. 

When they finally pulled up in front of the Emergency Room entrance he took it all back. He didn’t want to go in there. He didn’t know what he was going to see. Or what he might be told. He could stay with Mrs. Abernathy, ride with her to wherever she was going to park and then walk back with her. That would buy him a few more minutes at least. A few more where he could pretend everything was fine. Enough time for his mother to come outside and say it was a misunderstanding. Maybe a case of mistaken identity. 

The radio switched to a jarringly loud commercial and Cas turned away from the window to look at it. 

“Hon,” Mrs. Abernathy said. “Go on in. I know it’s scary but your mom needs you and you’ll feel better being with her.”

With shaking fingers, he reached for his seat belt latch, just barely remembering to thank her before closing the door behind him. 

The automatic doors parted for him with a whoosh and he stepped into the stifling heat of the crowded waiting room. A woman holding a coughing toddler stepped in front of him as he made his way to a receptionist sitting behind a glass panel. He waited, still clutching his backpack, until it was his turn. 

“I’m Castiel Novak. My dad is here?”

She scanned her computer screen. “Room eight. I’ll buzz you through.” 

The metal door swung open and he walked into the bustling emergency department. As he walked, looking at room numbers, the cacophony separated itself into identifiable sounds: the ringing of a phone, the blare of a too-loud television, somebody retching. He walked a little faster, trying not to look into any of the rooms, past loud incoherent voices and the jolly swearing of a drunk woman. As he walked, he realized the emergency department was a pod of rooms in a rectangle; room eight was close to where he’d come in, and he’d have gotten there almost immediately had he’d turned left instead of right. A group of people in white coats of varying lengths stepped out of room seven and he had to stop and wait for a path through them to open. His stomach clenched as he approached the correct room, the reality of it undeniable when he found his father’s name written on a whiteboard just outside. He faltered in the doorway, unable to move forward, but his mother was there and she came out to meet him, pulling him back out of the room, out of sight of the bed and what he guessed must be his father. He hadn’t looked.

She hugged him tightly, then held him out at arm’s length to study him. Her eyes were red, but dry. “Here’s what happened,” she began and Cas felt the pressure in his chest subside a notch, because she was in teacher mode and that meant a crisis, but one that was under control. “He complained of being tired this morning, but neither of us thought anything of it. I thought maybe he was coming down with that cold that’s going around, but it wasn’t enough to keep him from work so he went in just like any other day.” She took in a deep breath. “They called me just before nine to say he’d collapsed. Right there at his desk.” She gave a tiny shake of her head and Cas knew she was picturing it. “They called for an ambulance but he stopped breathing before it got there and they had to do CPR on him. Right there. In the office.” Her eyes filled and she put a hand to her quivering mouth. “How am I ever supposed to adequately thank them for that?” Cas wanted to reach for her hand, but he felt rooted to the spot as he waited for her to blink back the tears and continue. “The paramedics took over and brought him here. They got him stabilized but there was a lot of damage to his heart.”

“Is he—“ Cas said, but there was no way he could even ask the question.

“No,” his mother said firmly, her eyes burning brightly with something more than tears. “He’s going to make it.” She took him by the hand. “They have him sedated right now, but come in and see him.”

If his mother hadn’t forcefully insisted that he was going to survive, Cas never would’ve believed it. His father lay pale and still, a tube coming from his mouth, held in place by tape on his face. Wires snaked from the front of his pale blue hospital gown and an IV ran from each arm to bags of clear liquid hanging from a pole. A blood pressure cuff noisily inflated on his upper arm while monitor steadily tracked his heartbeat. 

Naomi settled into the chair alongside the bed as Cas stood awkwardly next to her. “They’re going to move him to the cardiac care unit as soon as they have a bed ready.” Cas nodded even though she couldn’t see him. He stared at the blue line on the monitor, tracking each heartbeat. The line moved rapidly in jagged ups and downs, and Cas let his eyes trail after it across the screen from left to right, then starting again from the left. He didn’t know what he was looking at, only that it seemed regular and orderly and that had to be good. He stared at it until his mother touched his sleeve. “Take off your coat, honey, and bring over that chair and sit down.” 

He did as he was told and sat beside his mother, keeping his eyes safely on the monitor and away from the expressionless face of the man lying in the bed. 

The next days blurred together in a never ending cycle of hurrying to get to the hospital just to sit at the bedside all day. Eventually they’d leave, the sky already dark, to come home and pick at a dinner that seemed to have magically appeared in the cooler someone left on the porch. Cas helped put leftovers into the fridge, wiping off the table as his mother did the few dishes. Then he’d fall into bed, only to do it again the next morning. 

He’d expected the CCU to be darkened and nearly silent, the sober tone echoing the condition of the patients, but instead it was brightly lit and full of vibrant energy. Friendly nurses drifted in and out of the room at regular and irregular intervals, doctors made rounds, cleaning and dietary crews rolled their carts up and down the halls. There were lingering heavy silences as bad news was delivered (and Cas learned that there was a special sign posted on a door to indicate when family members were spending their final moments with a loved one), but for the most part, the unit was a place of efficient care and slow gains. 

When Cas needed to stretch his legs, he wandered to the family lounge to make tea for his mother or hot chocolate for himself. It didn’t matter that the cups sat mostly full, cooling on a side table back in his father’s room; it was enough that he had something to do. His mother’s hands were like ice as he passed her the warm cup and he made a mental note to be sure she brought a shawl tomorrow. 

It was hard for Cas to see, but according to the hospital staff, his father  _ was _ getting better. Each day saw small improvements and then pieces of equipment began to disappear one by one. But when he looked so weak and tired so easily, Cas had a hard time reconciling the assurances of the doctors to the disquiet in his mind. He tried to focus on homework (the school was being extremely accommodating) but a nervous energy thrummed through him, rattling his concentration. He told himself it was the distractions of the hospital: people in and out, the chiming monitor alarms echoing through the hall, the overhead paging, but at home he wasn’t much better, lying awake in his bed under the eaves as he waited for the phone to ring with news that things had taken a violent turn for the worse in the night. And even though he hadn’t been there to see it, he kept replaying his father’s collapse in his mind. Sometimes a stack of papers fluttered down with him, other times a ceramic coffee mug shattered on the floor. He saw the panic on his co-worker’s face and heard the cracking of his father’s ribs as they began compressions and—

Cas threw back the covers and sat up, trying to pull the brake on his runaway train of thoughts. He buried his face in his hands and listened to the silent house. Only it wasn’t silent. There were creaks and sighs and the scrape of a branch on the porch roof. The furnace started up with a rattle that startled him and even his alarm clock hummed, the digital readout suddenly painfully bright. He wasn’t alone in the house; his mother was downstairs sleeping (he hoped) on her half of the bed. The first night they’d come home from the hospital he’d heard his mother crying in the shower, great gasping sobs that the rushing water didn’t even come close to muffling. It hadn’t happened again, but that didn’t keep Cas from feeling on edge, wondering if it would and what he should do if it did. 

He stood and looked out the window at the street light bathing the snowy yard with its bright glow. The branches of the climbing tree stirred in the wind. Dean’s father was gone a lot, sometimes for weeks at a time. He’d be used to this. But Cas’s dad never traveled for work. Every night, the three of them settled to bed in their own rooms, each one of them anchoring the silence in a way Cas had never thought to appreciate until the house was missing a crucial part of its foundation. Cas’s dad wasn’t a large man, not in body or in personality, but the gap he left seemed disproportionate to his size.

Growing chilly, he climbed back into bed, sighing as he pulled up the covers to try again to sleep. He just wanted his dad to come home and everything to go back to normal. 

Getting the family back together again didn’t happen the way he’d envisioned. 

One day a little over a week after the heart attack, Charlie’s mom dropped him off at the hospital after school. He easily made his way to the CCU, using the phone to be buzzed in, then filling out the visitor log (no fever, no cough), before thoroughly washing his hands and walking to his dad’s room. The head of the bed was inclined, and his father and mother were in discussion with a woman Cas didn’t recognize. No white coat, he noted, but they were hanging on her every word. 

“It makes the most sense,” Naomi said, determinedly.

“But now? At this point?” Chuck shook his head in resignation. “I don’t want to do that to him.”

Cas made his presence known in the doorway. 

“Hey, kid,” his dad said, eyes warm and fond.

Cas crossed to the bedside to give him a hug. “Hi, Dad. How are you feeling today?”

“Better now that you’re here. How was school?” 

“The same.” Ever since his dad had been in the hospital, the kids at school had been giving him a pretty wide berth. Nobody teased him, which was nice, but instead a lot of the kids tried to act like he wasn’t there. Like maybe he was somehow contagious. Like you could catch a heart attack. His closest friends had been there for him, closing ranks around him wordlessly and he’d even noticed Dean watching him from time to time. But honestly, he had no spare energy to spend on what that meant. 

The blonde woman stood and turned to his dad. “Let me know if you have any questions or need help with any of the arrangements,” she said before leaving the room.

“What arrangements?” Cas asked, looking between his parents.

Chuck looked at Naomi, who took a deep breath.

“Castiel, you know that your father is going to need a lengthy rehab.” Cas nodded. “We’ve been talking about it and it makes the most sense for us to go back to Illinois, where we have the support of family.”

“We’re moving?” 

Cas taped another box shut and added it to the row lining the hallway. Physically, this room had stayed the same as he’d grown, but the eaves never felt like they’d closed in on him. Instead, it had felt like a respite, a shelter from the rest of the world. Over the years, he’d put posters on the walls and traded out the little kid books for novels. His clothes spilled out of half-closed dresser drawers and lived in imprecise piles on his floor. While it didn’t bother him, he knew it drove his mother crazy, but she had solved the problem by only venturing upstairs when it was absolutely necessary. He loved that his parents weren’t the type to nitpick or nag, instead trusting that he’d make decisions that were right for him. They also weren’t about to baby him and he’d been packing his own lunches and doing his own laundry for years. 

He shook his head and tried to focus on the task at hand. With Chuck unable to do any lifting, they were paying movers to pack up the house, but when Cas bristled at people going through his stuff, they’d had the moving company drop off a stack of empty boxes for him to assemble and use. 

The ripping of the packing tape was a good match for the clamor inside his head. He knew this was the right choice, knew his parents needed to be close to family. He didn’t begrudge them this move, but he was overwhelmed at the thought of starting again. Changing schools in the middle of junior year...what even was the point? Naomi had talked to him about doing a combined program at the community college. Or even homeschooling. There were options, she’d assured him, and he felt like an ass for worrying about something so inconsequential when his mother’s eyes darted to his father every time he pushed himself up from a chair.

“It’s fine.” He tried to say it consolingly, but the tension coiling inside him made it come out snippy. 

His mother didn’t even give him the satisfaction of snapping at him. She looked at him, her face losing some of the tightness around her eyes. “I’m sorry, Castiel. This isn’t what any of us had planned, but here we are.”

“I know.” He towered over her these days and he put an arm around her shoulders. “It’ll be ok.”

She slumped against him, letting him hold her up just for a moment. Then she took a deep breath and straightened her spine. “Are you sure you don’t want to have some friends over this evening? Or go out?”

Cas shrugged. They’d thrown him a little goodbye party on his last day of school, presenting him with an honest to God scrapbook of pictures and cards, all of them promising to keep in touch. 

Naomi looked around the room. “In some ways, it feels like we just got here. But then I look at you and you’re so grown up.” She smiled fondly and rested a hand on his cheek. “I didn’t have to look up to you then, and you used to about bowl me over running outside to play with the boys in the woods.” 

Cas remembered all too well the first time he laid eyes on Dean Winchester, standing there in his Royals t-shirt, clutching a plate full of banana bread. He’d been so glad to have a possible friend, to know someone before starting at a brand new school. And while those things had come true, and he and Dean had been friends for so long, he’d never anticipated the anguish it would bring as well. Watching Dean go off in different directions. Drinking, cutting classes, quitting baseball. It was like all the things that made Dean “Dean” had been stripped away over the years, leaving him almost unrecognizable in Cas’s eyes. But every now and then Cas would catch a glimpse of the boy he used to be, something in the way he held himself or the soft look in his eyes no matter how tough he tried to be. In those moments, Cas wanted to grab him and shake him and help him find his way home. Maybe that’s what he’d been trying to do when he shoved him up against those lockers. 

“That was a long time ago.” He and Dean had barely spoken in months, the few words they’d exchanged strained and out of necessity. 

Dean hadn’t even said a word after the heart attack. Mary had stopped by with a casserole while his father was still in the hospital. Naomi had been at her husband’s side, but Cas was home and he opened the door to find her standing on the porch. She looked pale, which made the dark circles under her eyes stand out even more. Her hair hung down limp and her mouth was drawn tight, but she gave Cas a watery smile. 

Awkwardly, she thrust the pan at him. “I was so sorry to hear about your dad. How’s he doing?”

“A little better each day.” Cas took the offering. “Would you like to come in?”

Mary looked over his shoulder, into the warm interior of his house, then shook her head. “I can only stay a minute.” She pointed to the piece of paper that lay on top of the tin foil. “I, uh, put some reheating instructions on there. Or you can put it in the freezer for later. Whatever you want.” 

“Thanks.” Cas shifted his weight from foot to foot. It seemed like she wanted something but he had no idea what and these past few days had left him too tired to try and figure it out. 

“I won’t keep you,” she said. She started to turn away, then stopped. “Your family has always been so good to ours. I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.”

Cas wasn’t sure what she meant by that but he smiled at her and she blew out a long breath, relaxing a bit in front of his eyes. “This is great. Really.” 

“Please give your parents my best.”

“I will,” Cas promised. 

It seemed a fitting bookend to their time in Kansas. From the lively excitement of a trio of little boys playing in the yard to a solitary casserole exchanged during a time of tragedy. Maybe that was just growing up, Cas thought as he re-checked his desk drawers. Maybe nothing lasted and the sooner you learned that, the easier it was. 

He slid the drawer closed just as a soft thunk got his attention. A few seconds later, another sounded, this time closer. He pulled open his curtain to see Dean standing in the front yard, lobbing snowballs at his window. 

Cas would be lying if he said he hadn’t imagined Dean coming to talk to him. But when day after day passed with nothing, he’d assumed the time for reconciliation had long passed. Seeing him there in the cold night, Cas’s surprise went straight into a flash of annoyance. Cas should leave him out there. How dare Dean show up now when Cas had tucked his heart safely away behind a wall of righteous indignation. The last time he’d chucked things at Cas’s window had ended in disaster, why did Cas have any reason to think this time would go any better? He should flip him off and pull the curtain closed. But even as he considered this, the outrage flowing hot in his veins, he found himself again holding up a finger — _ one moment _ —and turning to grab his shoes. He didn’t bother creeping down the stairs. There was nothing his parents would or could do at this point if they heard him. He pulled on his winter jacket, a hat and gloves, and stepped into the bracing cold night. 

Before Cas could say a word, Dean turned to walk across the yard, his footsteps crunching in the snow. He crossed the plowed street and stood against the trunk of the climbing tree. Cas followed him, heart pounding, but determined not to let him off the hook. 

“Hey, Cas.”

“Hey.”

“Uh, how’s your dad doing?”

Despite the cold, Cas was warmed by a flash of anger. “You threw snowballs at my window at eleven o’clock at night to finally ask how my dad is?”

Dean winced like Cas had hit him. He cast his eyes downward and worked his jaw silently for a moment before he spoke. “Sorry.”

Cas wanted to stay mad, but it disappeared as quickly as it came. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to say I’m sorry. That you’re leaving. For being a shit friend. About your dad. All of it.” Dean’s head was bare and he ran a gloveless hand through his hair. Cas stood silently, fingers starting to tingle from the cold even inside his pocket. “But I guess it’s too late for that. This was a mistake, so I’m sorry about this too.” He started to walk away but Cas grabbed him by the shoulder. 

“Wait.”

When Dean stopped, the openness in his expression had Cas’s heart clenching in his chest. 

“I’m sorry, too. For that day at school. I was way out of line.” Cas let the words hang there for a moment before he added, “I’m glad you’re here. It would’ve sucked to leave without telling you goodbye.”

Dean gave him a half smile. “You know where I live.”

Cas tried to smile back as the guilt twisted inside him. He did know, and he could’ve gone and knocked on the door or thrown something at Dean’s window, too. But he hadn’t. He’d given up on Dean, sure Dean was through with him as well. Instead of saying any of that, Cas pulled off his winter hat and thrust it at Dean. “Put this on so you don’t freeze to death out here.”

Dean rolled his eyes, but he complied. They stood for another moment in silence, but it felt more comfortable. “So, back to Illinois, huh?”

“Yeah, my dad’s gonna need a bunch of rehab and it just makes sense to be there with family around.”

“He is doing better, though, right?”

“Yeah,” Cas agreed. “He’s been home for a bit now. But he can’t work or anything.”

“And your mom?” 

Even though Naomi had insisted on it from the start, she’d cried the day they told her Chuck was going to pull through. Cas had never seen his mother cry before, and he’d felt out of place seeing it, like it was something private he wasn’t supposed to witness. He swallowed down the lump in his throat. “She’s gone into full-on Naomi mode and taken charge of his recovery. I’m doing what I can to help, but…” He shrugged one shoulder before adding, “Your mom brought us a lasagna. It was really good.”

Dean’s face lit up at that. “She did? I didn’t know.”

“Yeah, I was home when she brought it over. I thanked her, but tell her how much we liked it.”

“I will.” He nodded. “I definitely will.”

Again the silence stretched between them. Cas didn’t know what to say, but he didn’t want Dean to leave either. He sighed. “This used to be so easy.”

“What did?”

Cas waved toward Dean or the tree or maybe both. “Just hanging out. Being here. When we didn’t have to worry about anything other than Sam trying to chop down the tree.”

Dean laughed. “I think the wiffle ball bat was my all-time favorite.”

“Remember when he tried to use his squirt gun?” 

“Can’t believe that kid is ending up so smart when he started out so stupid.” 

“What about you? How’s school going?”

Dean shrugged. “I’m getting by.”

Again, Cas held his tongue, even though the words were bubbling up inside him.  _ You’re just as smart as Sam. You can do anything if you put in the effort.  _ “Well, you won’t have me to keep you in line anymore.”

It was mostly a joke. Cas hadn’t done any such thing in a very long time. He expected Dean to laugh it off, but instead, in the moonlight, he saw Dean’s eyes fill with tears. “It’s just..I know we haven’t been that close lately but…” He blinked hard a couple of times. “I always thought you’d be here. I liked knowing you were here.”

With all of his outrage cooled, it hit Cas that this might be the very last time they saw each other. Like Dean, he’d considered his presence a given, a fixture only an arm’s length away. Even when he thought about college and leaving Kansas for other parts of the country, this house, this neighborhood, these people were always supposed to be here for him to come home to. 

A chill that had nothing to do with the freezing temperature left him shivering. Before he could overthink it, Cas pulled him into a hug and Dean wrapped his arms around him, crushingly tight. He buried his face into Cas’s neck, and his nose was freezing against Cas’s bare skin, but all Cas did was hold him tighter. “You were my very first best friend,” Cas whispered. “That doesn’t just go away.” Dean didn’t speak, but he could feel him nodding. 

They hugged for a long time and when Cas pulled back, there was something in Dean’s face that made Cas think that if he were braver maybe he could close that distance between them. Something in the way Dean looked at him, his chin tipping up, his lips gently parted. Maybe Cas should go for it, kiss Dean just once to know what it felt like. Even if Dean shoved him away afterwards, Cas had a built-in escape, a failproof plan for pretending like it never happened. The thought crossed his mind, but ultimately it was enough to have Dean here in his arms. To know that he could leave with a clear heart instead of a hard lump of unresolved anger lodged in his chest. He pressed their foreheads together instead. 

“Write to me, okay? Send me your new address.”

“Of course.”

They’d both grown taller over the past seven years. The tree had too, and it held its branches over them, sheltering them from the harsh glitter of stars in the endless expanse of winter sky.


	11. Chapter 11

# PART THREE (2002)

Naomi carried a laundry basket over to where Cas was sprawled on the couch. “You didn’t have to do that, mom. I’m perfectly capable of folding my own laundry.”

“I know,” she said, and handed it to him. “But do you?”

“I have a system,” Cas explained. 

“I’ve seen it. From basket to floor and back to basket again.”

Cas laughed. “You can’t deny that it does, in fact, qualify as a system.”

She smiled at him. “It’s been nice having you around these past few months and I’m happy to do it.”

The specter of Chuck’s death still hung over the household like a physical weight. He’d recovered fully after his heart attack and he and Naomi had counted each of the six years since then as a gift and a blessing. When the cancer had been discovered, it had already spread, lighting up the scans in so many places that Cas hadn’t known where to look first. He’d taken a semester off from grad school, despite his parents’ objections, to spend what time his father had left together. 

It was a decision he didn’t regret because even given the poor prognosis, things had gone bad quickly, a rapid decline that still managed to take them all by surprise. Now, in early April, his father had been gone for nearly a month. In that time, the grief had moved from something that seemed to suck him underwater, making every breath a focused labor, to something that accompanied his every move, hovering nearby but leaving room for his lungs to expand again. He’d promised his father that he’d go back to school when the next semester started, but in the meantime he was now in the possession of Chuck’s old sedan and a lot of free time. 

“What time are you planning to head out?”

“I’m in no rush. So whenever I wake up. I’ll have something to eat and then get on the road.”

“You’ll call me when you get there?”

“I will.” He didn’t exactly have a place to stay yet, not sure if he’d want to spend the night there. He hadn’t set foot in Kansas since they’d moved away that late winter day. So much had changed for him. He’d finished high school and had a degree in engineering. He was out, at least to his parents and closest friends. Sometimes he couldn’t even remember the boy he’d been, but often, at night, he lay awake and revisited the house he lived in, working his way across the porch and through the front door. Taking a tour of the downstairs, then imagining himself walking up the stairs to his old room, and the view of the forest and the climbing tree from his window. He didn’t know why he felt the urge to return after so many—or possibly not enough—years, but now seemed like the time. 

He didn’t even know if Dean was still there. He pushed away the flicker of shame at not having kept in touch. Each time he sat down to write, Cas couldn’t find the words. Not when he could still conjure Dean pressed against him, his mouth only inches away. He owed Dean more than dumping his feelings onto him from a distance. So he waited to try again, but the more time passed, the more the guilt weighed on him until even just a casual letter became impossible.

He knew his mother had sent holiday cards to the Winchesters and he told himself that if Dean really wanted to write to him, he had the information he needed, but the excuse felt flimsy no matter how he tried to spin it. 

He wasn’t going back to see Dean. At least that’s what he told himself. He’d moved on. Finished high school, made new friends, gotten through undergrad and been accepted to grad school. He was happy with the life he had and the people he knew. But something kept kept pulling him back, some strange nostalgia that he felt too young to be experiencing. Maybe it was because he had so many memories of growing up, but he was in touch with so few people who shared them. And now, with his dad gone…

Cas shoved the last few things into his bag a bit more forcefully than he needed to. He sat down on the edge of his bed and clutched the duffle to his chest, allowing himself one gasping sob before he pulled himself together. Losing his dad had felt like a knife to his heart. The pain was sharp and pure; nothing made it easier. People said stupid things at the funeral. _ You were lucky to have the time with him you did. Those years after his heart attack were a blessing. At least you had the time to come say goodbye. _ No matter that they contained a kernel of truth, to hear them while the grief threatened to suffocate him was an insult. For his mother’s sake, he didn’t snap at these people, didn’t cause a scene. But he lay awake the night after the funeral, with no tears left to cry, and crafted the cutting and glib responses he wished he’d made. 

Dean would’ve said them. Dean wouldn’t have suffered those fools silently. 

It felt wrong to be grieving his father in a house Cas had really only spent about a year in before leaving for college. It didn’t give him the comfort of _ home. _ He was self-aware enough to know that was part of the pull to go back to Kansas. To revisit those places that had been as familiar as his own face in the mirror. 

The next morning he awoke shortly after the sun. He tried to go back to sleep, but he was too keyed up for the trip. Finally he tossed back the covers and went to the kitchen to start the coffee. His mother joined him there soon after. 

“You’re up early.”

He nodded and poured her a cup. “Might as well get the day started.”

“At least you won’t be driving in the dark.” 

Smiling, he passed it to her. “You do know I’m twenty-three, right? I’m perfectly capable of driving at night.”

Naomi placed her hand on his cheek. Cas tried not to let his gaze linger on the circles under her eyes. “I do know that. But to a mother, even a grown man is still a little boy.”

“I’ll be fine,” he promised. “And I’ll call you when I figure out where I’m staying.”

As anxious as he was to get on the road, he felt uneasy at leaving his mother behind. She hadn’t said a single word to contribute to his guilt, hadn’t pressured him to stay longer, hadn’t questioned why he was taking this trip instead of returning to his apartment on campus. She and his father had been together for so many years. They’d spent two decades together before he was even born and the hole in her life had to be immeasurable. But Naomi Novak was never one to feel sorry for herself. She’d keep moving forward and while this new stage of her life was foreign and unclear, she’d take it one step at a time. He didn’t need to worry about her, but he saw the way she’d aged, how she seemed a bit frail, her once decisive movements sometimes tentative. It scared him to think of losing her, too. 

She packed him a bag of snacks for the drive and hugged him long and hard when he was ready to go. “I know you know this, but your father was so proud of you. He’d tell all the doctors and nurses about his son at Northwestern.”

Cas swallowed hard, extending the hug so that he’d have time to blink back tears and trust his voice not to waver. “You’ll be all right here on your own?”

“Don’t you worry about me. He and I knew this day would come, and we prepared as best we could.” 

“Ok, mom. I’ll call you tonight.”

“I love you, Castiel. Be safe. Give everyone my best.”

“I will. Love you, too.”

Naomi stood by the driveway and stoically watched until he turned the corner out of sight. 

He’d made this drive many times before, but always with his father driving as they returned home from visiting family. The last time he’d taken this route, his family had set out together, Cas confused and sullen as they pulled away from Kansas, the moving truck somewhere ahead of them. He’d shared driving duty with his mother, but instead of making him feel grown up and responsible, it only served to point out how much their lives had changed. Chuck, who had loved long drives, was delegated to the passenger seat, doing his best to keep Cas’s spirits up when he wasn’t dozing, his head tipped back against the headrest in a way that Cas found unsettling. 

Without a plan, he didn’t risk driving the entire eleven hours only to arrive unannounced, so he stopped in Kansas City, just shy of the border. The marble rattled in the cup holder as he made a sharp turn off the exit ramp. When they’d moved into the new house, he’d carefully unpacked it and placed it on his windowsill. It had sat there ever since, until he came back to help with his father and impulsively picked it up and tucked it into his pocket. He’d taken to keeping it there each day, a tangible connection to a simpler time in his life.

He set out again in the morning, with the full day in front of him. By the time he reached the highway exit for Mapleton, the familiar signs left him not with the nostalgic comfort he expected, but with a cold and almost nauseating dread. What if he saw people he knew? What if he didn’t see people he knew? What if he had nothing in common with the people he’d left behind? What if they didn’t remember him or, worse, didn’t care? He’d lived there for seven years, but he’d been gone for nearly as long. What was he trying to prove by showing up with no warning to anyone? 

Overthinking left him sweaty, his heart racing as he got closer to town. He wanted to see his old neighborhood and visit his old house, but knowing the moment was in reach had him driving a circuitous route that took him to the high school instead. Everything there looked the same, down to the letters on the sign board out front. He drove slowly around to the back of the school, past the football stadium and the baseball diamond. He remembered how excited Dean was to be playing on “a real field”, and how he’d inexplicably quit the sport that he’d lived and breathed for so long shortly after. He meandered some more, driving past the elementary school where he’d been so nervous starting fifth grade in a brand new place, and past the convenience store where they’d bike, pooling pocket change with Dean and Charlie to maximize the amount of chips and candy they could get. He drove slowly past the little league fields, standing empty while the kids were in school. The ballpark had a new sign, a big plaque affixed to the back of the home dugout, celebrating a team that had been state champion two years ago. “Way to go.” he said softly, pleased at their success. 

When he could put it off no longer, he drove to his old neighborhood, turning onto the narrow tree-lined road. Each house he passed, each familiar sight, filled his chest with a feeling midway between joy and sorrow, at once both and neither. He ached at seeing it all again, passing the Trans’ house, and Charlie’s, the road bending as he got closer to Dean’s. As he approached, something looked off, but it took him a moment to understand what it was. The woods thinned, and then they were gone. 

Across the street from the Winchesters, where there’d been nothing but a forested area all the way down to the dirt road, there were now houses. Cas’s breath caught in his throat as his car inched down the street, finally pulling over in front of his old house. That looked the same at least, other than being painted with brown trim where it used to be green. He barely had time to give it a second glance, though, as he tried to get his bearings without the aid of the familiar landmarks across the street. He counted six houses on fairly small lots. Some had driveways that led from the street facing his old house, some were oriented to face the dirt road. Which had since been paved, Cas noted, the new, dark asphalt in much better shape than the cracked pavement of his old street. The houses were more modern looking, basically all the same design with only a few variations. He saw a swingset in one yard, a colorful plastic climbing gym in another. Families with kids who would play at the ballpark and walk to the elementary school like he once had. 

It was odd to be able to see through the remaining trees all the way to the other side. The cool and shady woods which had been their escape from the sun, thick with hiding places and the starting point for so many adventures, had been carved into lots. As he got his bearings, he realized that a wide but short driveway stretched from the street where the climbing tree once stood.

Heart sinking, he turned away. His old house had a strange minivan parked in the driveway. The raised flower beds, built by his father for his mother, a literal labor of love, were overgrown and untended. 

This was a mistake, he realized, as so many emotions churned in his chest that he couldn’t even identify them all. What was he supposed to do now? Turn around and drive back to Illinois with his mostly full bag of snacks? He was still standing there trying to decide his next move when a small green car came up the no-longer-dirt road. He was so distracted by the lack of dust following it that he didn’t spare the driver a look. It wasn’t until the car pulled over that he saw who it was.

“Cas?”

She was older, but there was no mistaking her. “Charlie.”

“What are you doing here?”

That was the question. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to figure out a way to explain. “I...took some time off school. So, I’m on a bit of a road trip, I guess?”

By now she’d crossed to him and pulled him into a hug. “Oh my God, I can’t believe this! It’s so good to see you? How are you? How are your folks?”

He hated to do this to her when she was smiling widely at him, still holding on to his upper arms. “Uh, my dad just died. About a month ago.” Her face turned suddenly, as he knew it would. 

“Oh no. I’m so sorry. He was such a nice man.” She glanced over his shoulder at his old yard. “I have very fond memories of him out here in his sandals and socks.” She winced a little, like maybe it was a disrespectful thing to say, but the image was enough to break the tension and Cas found a hoarse laugh bursting out of him. 

“It was a fashion statement for sure.”

“It’s so good to see you. How long are you here? Where are you staying?”

The reality of his mistake settled back over him. “I don’t really know. I didn’t exactly...plan.”

Charlie’s eyebrows rose. “Lord, who are you and what have you done with my friend Castiel?”

Cas tried to smile, gesturing across the street. “Apparently I’m not the only thing around here that’s changed.”

Turning, Charlie leaned against Cas’s car, her body comfortingly close. “Isn’t it awful? The lot got sold maybe two years ago? The houses have been there for about a year.”

“And they paved the dirt road.”

“Yeah, even before construction started.” They stood for a moment in silence. “Hey, I’ve got groceries in the car I need to put away. Do you have time for a cup of coffee or something?”

“Sure.” 

She gave him directions to a new coffee shop that had opened up in what used to be a small restaurant near the town center. He made his way there and found a payphone on the corner, carefully punching in the numbers from his calling card. He’d checked in with his mom last night from the motel, but he might as well update her while he had a few minutes. The call rang seven times before she picked it up and he pictured her making her way across the empty house to the little table in the living room where the phone sat. 

“Hello?”

“Hi Mom, it’s me.”

“Hi, honey. Make it ok?”

“Yeah, no problems. I ran into Charlie and we’re going to have coffee.”

“That’s wonderful! Do tell her hello from me.”

“I’ve got to go, I see her pulling up. I’ll call you tonight and let you know where I’m staying.”

“All right, be safe and have fun.”

Cas smiled even as he rolled his eyes. “I will. Bye, Mom.”

“Bye.”

When Charlie got out of the car, she was holding something in her hand, a cell phone. “You gotta get with the program, Cas. It’s 2002.”

Cas took it from her, pretending not to know what it was. Some of his friends had phones but he had yet to feel the need. “You know I was basically raised by the Waltons.” 

That earned him a full on laugh as she pulled open the door. “Now tell me what you’ve been up to since last I saw you.”

Inside, with a surprisingly good cup of coffee and a lemon blueberry muffin, he caught her up. Finishing high school in the Chicago suburbs, college at the University of Illinois, grad school at Northwestern. 

“Big Ten high five,” Charlie said, holding up her hand and explaining that she’d been studying computer science at the University of Michigan. “I’m only home because it’s spring break.”

“I’m so glad I ran into you. I wasn’t sure who was still here…” 

“The Winchesters moved.” She took a sip of coffee, his eyes still on him. “Actually, Mrs. Winchester died. Not quite two years ago.”

“She did?” As much as it had hurt to lose his father, he’d had so many more years than Mary, who couldn’t have been much more than forty. “What happened?”

Charlie let out a long breath. “From what I understand, it was a weird reaction to some medication she was taking? It was super sudden, right after Sam left for college. Dean took it really hard and once the house sold he took off, too.”

Cas tried not to dwell on that detail. “And John?”

“I don’t know if he even came back. I was at school but my mom said they didn’t even have a funeral or anything. I’ve heard talk he has a new family, some woman he met on the road.”

“Are you kidding me?” Cas felt outrage begin to flare hot inside him. 

“I couldn’t make this shit up if I tried.” Charlie shoved her half eaten croissant at him and helped herself to a big chunk of muffin. 

“So, where are they now? Dean and Sam.”

“Well, Sam is at Stanford.” Charlie paused, waiting for that to sink in. Sam had been thirteen years old the last time Cas saw him, all lanky arms and legs as he’d turned the corner from kid to teenager, hiking his jeans up over his skinny hips. 

“That little...at Stanford?”

Grinning, Charlie nodded. “We were all so proud of him. He’s smart as a whip.”

“And Dean? Where did he go to college?”

“He didn’t.” Charlie’s tone was clipped.

“What do you mean?”

“He dropped out senior year. Never graduated.” 

Cas felt his higher processing screech to a halt. “I knew he was struggling when I left, but...he dropped out?”

“We all tried to talk him out of it, but there was no changing his mind. I guess his dad was sending enough money that they could stay in the house, but other than that there wasn’t anything else coming in.”

“His mom couldn’t work?”

“Nothing steady. She was sick a lot.” Charlie picked up her empty cup, then set it down again. “Dean took a job at a factory in Wichita.”

“I can’t believe there wasn’t another way,” Cas said, his voice nearly a whisper. Maybe if he’d stayed in touch he could’ve talked some sense into Dean, urged him to reach out for some sort of help. Even as he thought it, he knew there was no convincing Dean Winchester of anything once he had his mind set. 

“Mary was gone, Sam was in California, John wasn’t coming back. I guess he ran out of reasons to stay. Honestly, I can’t blame him.”

It was one thing to have the scenery of your childhood altered, the way Cas had found it. It was something else entirely to have the very foundation of your childhood ripped apart and scattered to the wind like so many turning leaves. Staying here must’ve felt like a mockery of every good memory Dean had ever had. “I remember one time when we were like eleven, right when John took that job driving trucks. He and Dean were outside and John basically gave him the _ you need to be the man of the house while I’m gone speech. _ We were _ eleven. _ You don’t do that to a kid.”

“You’re preaching to the choir. Dean had too much dumped on him. He decided it was up to him to save everyone.”

“Everyone but himself,” Cas said bitterly. “He was every bit as smart as Sam. The whole thing is so unfair.”

“It is,” Charlie agreed. “Aren’t you glad you came back?”

Cas laughed. “Tell me something good. Something about you.”

Charlie blushed. “I have a girlfriend. It’s pretty serious, I think.”

“You think?” Cas didn’t even try to hide his smile. 

“I know.” She told Cas all about how they’d met during undergrad and had committed to staying together when they applied to grad school.

“I’m so happy for you. Wow, we’ve come a long way from having to pretend we were dating.”

At that, Charlie tossed back her head and laughed. “Our parents had to know, right? I mean we never wanted to go out on dates or anything. There’s no way they didn’t know. We were only a couple when it was convenient.”

“My parents sure didn’t. When I came out to them after my freshman year of college, they had no idea.”

“How’d they take it? They were pretty religious, right? You guys went to church all the time.”

“We were, but it was a really progressive church. My mom cried when I told her but not because she was upset. She told me, ‘I know this must’ve been so hard for you, and I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help.’” 

“That’s best case scenario.” Charlie looked wistful. ”My parents have finally decided that this lesbian things isn’t just ‘a phase’.”

Cas thought back to that moment, his parents side by side on the couch listening intently. “My dad asked me how my grades were and I just blinked at him for a minute, thinking maybe he hadn’t heard me. When I told him they were fine, he said ‘Ok, I don’t see any issues then.’”

“Your parents were always so cool.” Cas raised an eyebrow. “Ok, maybe cool isn’t the word, but so laid back. And supportive.” 

The familiar prickle had Cas blinking back tears. “Yeah,” he said, then cleared his throat. “I was lucky.”

They caught up a while longer and Charlie filled him in on news from people they both knew from school as well as other changes in town, like the theater downtown closing when a mall with a multiplex opened up twenty minutes away. Despite the new houses on their street, the local population had declined overall, and they were proposing combining the junior high and high school into one building to save on operational costs. Charlie confided that she had no intention of moving back to Kansas after she got her degree, but that she and her girlfriend had their sights set on California. 

“I can’t believe Sam Winchester beat you there.”

“Right? That kid’s a golden child.” 

“I guess so.”

“Where are you headed next? I told my mom you were here and she’ll kill us both if you don’t stop by the house before you leave town.”

“I don’t know,” Cas admitted. “I sort of thought I’d stick around here for a bit, but now I don’t think there’s any reason…”

“Ouch.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Cas added quickly. “I’m so glad I got to see you.”

Charlie waved him off. “I’d be offended at that if I didn’t know what you really meant was no Dean.”

Cas felt his face heat. “We don’t even know each other anymore. I don’t know why it matters to me.”

“It matters because you were best friends.” Her expression softened. “You have a bond made from years of shared experiences that nobody else has.” She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. “Also, you want to get in his pants.”

“Charlie!” Cas hissed, looking around to see if anyone had heard her. 

“Look, Cas. I don’t swing that way but even I can see the appeal. Oh, did I mention he got better looking with each passing year?”

Cas buried his face in his hands. “This is the worst possible news.”

Charlie picked up her bag and rummaged through it, pulling out a small spiral bound address book. “I know this address was only temporary, but last I heard from Sam he hadn’t moved to a new city.” She flipped through the pages, then turned it so Cas could see. “Madras, Oregon.”

“What, so I should just drive to Oregon and see him?”

“Why not?”

“What am I supposed to say when I get there? ‘Can Dean come out and play?’”

Charlie pretended to look thoughtful for a moment. “Maybe ask if little Dean can come out to play.” 

“This was a mistake.”

“You’ve got time. A car. And unfinished business. What are you waiting for?”

“Do you really think I should?”

“Look, worst case scenario you get out there and decide he’s a dick and you can’t believe you ever had a crush on him. Best case?” She waggled her eyebrows up and down.

Cas slumped in his seat. “Do you remember all those girlfriends he had? Is there anyone on earth straighter than Dean Winchester?” Even as he said it, he remembered the look on Dean’s face as they said goodbye under the climbing tree. 

Charlie shrugged. “Sometimes people don’t know what they want until it’s right in front of them.” 

“This is nuts. I’m not driving to Oregon.”

“Suit yourself. Instead you can continue with your safe little life, never fully living, always hung up on the one that got away.”

They’d had variations of this conversation dozens of times growing up, Charlie knocking down his defenses and pushing him to push himself. “God, I’ve missed you.” 

“Me, too.” She pushed back her chair. “Now let’s go see my mom. You’ve got a lot of driving to do.”

That evening he called his mother collect from a motel room east of Denver. 

“How are you, Cas? How did it go today?”

Cas tossed back the bedspread and stretched out on the clean sheets underneath. “It was good. I mean, it was kind of weird being back there? But good.”

“Has it changed? Or were you just seeing it through grown up eyes?”

“Both, I think.” Naomi waited, knowing he needed the time to put his thoughts into words. “The woods are gone. They built new houses there instead.”

“They did? That’s terrible. That lovely view was one of my favorite things about that house.”

“Our house still looks pretty good. The people there now have it painted an ugly color, though.” He didn’t bother to mention the garden and hoped she wouldn’t ask. 

“Well, there’s no accounting for taste,” she said. Cas managed a smile because that was about the closest she ever came to insulting anyone or anything. 

He took a deep breath. “The Winchesters are gone, too. Mom, Mrs. Winchester passed away.”

He heard her gasp. “Oh, that poor woman. What happened?”

“Charlie said it was some sort of reaction to her medication?” There was such a long silence that he thought maybe she was crying, but when she spoke again, her voice was more weary than sad. 

“I imagine it was something like that.”

“She said she’d been sick a lot? I knew she had headaches but I guess I didn’t really know what was wrong with her.”

“You said the whole family is gone?”

“Yeah, Sam is at school in California. Dean moved to Oregon after his mom died. And apparently their dad just stopped coming home.”

His mother made a contemplative sound. “Mary Winchester was a lovely woman who deserved better than what she got.”

“She couldn’t have been older than, what? Forty-two? Charlie said it was about a year and a half ago. The September Sam left for college.”

“She was younger than I was when we moved there.” Naomi sounded wistful and Cas remembered the two of them sitting together on the Novaks’ front porch, mismatched in every way except for the affection they had for each other.

“You two were good friends. At first, anyhow.”

“We were. Mary was charming and vibrant, so pretty and full of life. She deserved better. We did what we could to help, but…” Her voice began to shake and she trailed off.

“Mom, what are you talking about?”

“Cas, Mary was sick, yes, but her malady was in her head, as they say. At first it was just in the winter. When the days got so short. They have a name for that now.”

“Seasonal depression?”

“Yes. But when John took that new job and all the day-to-day responsibility fell onto her, it got a lot worse. There were long stretches when she couldn’t get out of bed.”

Cas ran through his catalog of memories, each one taking on a new dimension now that he had this information. “Wait, how did I not know this?”

“You were a child, Cas. You didn’t need to be worried about such things. Those poor boys, though.”

John Winchester at their door in the middle of the night, a sleeping Sam in his arms. Dean crying on Cas’s bedroom floor. “That time she went to the hospital and the boys came to our house…”

“That was a suicide attempt.”

Cas felt so foolish. How could he not have known? “They said she went to visit her aunt.”

“They kept her for three days in the psych ward.”

Cas wanted to pace, but the phone cord wouldn’t allow it. He sat up, pivoting his feet to the floor so he could rest his head in his other hand. “I don’t understand. Didn’t they do anything for her?”

“It’s a persistent, insidious illness. And when you have a husband who doesn’t understand, who can’t see why you won’t just get out of bed and do what needs to be done, well, it’s that much more difficult. We tried to help him understand, but he accused us of interfering. We wanted to be able to support the boys in whatever ways we could, so we couldn’t push too hard.”

“Jesus, he did this to her. To all of them.” Cas felt the outrage burn in his veins. John Winchester had left his wife on her own with two small children and instead of being there for her, he put the whole thing on Dean’s shoulders. 

“Now, Castiel, it’s not that simple.” Cas started to interrupt, but Naomi kept talking, her tone brooking no argument. “There are many things he could’ve done differently, but you have to remember that people just didn’t talk about these things. There was a stigma, a shame. A feeling of weakness. Let’s be honest, there still is and probably always will be.” Cas thought about the boy on his hall freshman year who left school mid-way through the first semester. All they’d said was he’d had some sort of breakdown. “Do you know that when I was a little girl, people didn’t say the word ‘cancer’? Instead they’d say, ‘Oh, Aunt Joanne is very sick’ and we knew to read between the lines. Things are better now than they used to be but Mary was terrified people would take the boys away from her if they found out.”

“But you understood and you’re…” He stopped, not sure how to properly finish his sentence.

“A lot older?”

“Well, yeah.”

“People open up to a teacher. Sometimes they don’t mean to, but they do. And I did a lot of outreach with the church. There’s no better way to get a true understanding of the human condition.” She sighed. "Do you know what the difference is between mental health and other health problems?"

His mind raced through any number of differences. "What?"

"Casseroles."

Cas thought of his mother’s quiet strength, so obvious after his father’s death. Apparently it had always been there as she helped others, resolved to do what she could without ever making it about her. He thought about the meals people had brought them when his father was diagnosed, food that eased their burden as they cared for him and later as they grieved. He had a flash of memory of Mary standing on their porch, a lasagna in her hands. “It’s still not right that she was left on her own.”

“You’re right about that. And poor Dean had to grow up way too fast as a result. You know,” she continued, like she could read Castiel’s mind and knew another accusation was about to be thrown. “When we first met Mary and John, they were the sweetest couple. So in love. He doted on those boys and he would’ve moved heaven and earth for them. The way things fell apart, well, they were both in over their heads. I’m not sure you can place the blame on either one of them.” 

Cas made a wordless grumble. 

“It’s easy to be angry,” Naomi said, her voice gentle. “But the situation was a lot more complicated than that.”

“I wish I had known.”

“What would you have done with that knowledge? At twelve years old? Or fourteen?” Cas could perfectly picture the look on his mother’s face, that one raised eyebrow and the slight tilt of her head. 

He stayed silent for a long time. “This is why you always wanted me to give Dean another chance when we fought or when he’d stop showing up.” Naomi made a soft sound of assent. “I always thought you just liked him better than me.”

Naomi laughed. “Some days I probably did. Truth is, I have a very soft spot in my heart for both of the Winchester boys.”

“Hey, a bit of good news: Sam made it into Stanford.”

“That’s wonderful!” 

The pride in her voice was genuine and Cas found himself smiling, before the weight of all he’d learned settled back on top of him. “It doesn’t seem right that his mom barely lived to see it.”

Naomi’s voice was thoughtful when she spoke again. “You said she died right after he got there?”

“Yeah.”

She sighed and Cas could feel her sorrow across the miles. “Oh, honey. I’m not sure that was a coincidence.”

He listened as she laid out her thoughts, part of him wishing he could go back to being an oblivious and sheltered child.


	12. Chapter 12

He gave himself three days to get to Oregon, leaving him plenty of time to meander up through Colorado and check out the scenery in Wyoming. He’d stopped at a AAA in Wichita to arm himself with maps and brochures. There were national parks. Mountains ranges and hot springs. Cas had never been further west than Kansas, and he flipped through the brochure for Yellowstone National Park. Maybe he could see bison. But when he got midway across southern Wyoming, eyeing the turnoff to head north, he realized the detour would add another half day to his journey and he continued west instead, making an almost straight shot across the state. There were such large stretches of nothing in Wyoming, open spaces that tricked his eye. He lost track of distance as the scenery seemed unending, the open spaces unchanging. Deep in his own head, only the changing position of the sun indicated the passage of time.

He’d been so stupid. How could he not have known? He’d yelled at Dean, berated him for not taking his future seriously. All the while, he’d been barely hanging on, tasked with running a family, with raising his brother when his parents couldn’t, or wouldn’t. 

Headaches. 

He’d just accepted that, never questioning it. Not that he even knew what depression was at that time. Even now, he couldn’t conceive of feeling so badly that he’d want to end his own life. But it hurt him to think of Mary suffering so unnecessarily. Of all of them working so hard to act like everything was fine. With this new knowledge, things he’d taken for granted were slowly falling into place. The way they boys eventually started meeting in the woods to play. The way Dean would tell Cas his parents wanted them to play outside instead of coming into Cas’s house. The way Naomi would send him outside armed with snacks for all three of them. 

There wasn’t a lot he could’ve done, even as a teenager, but maybe if Dean had confided in him, he could’ve at least been there for him. Maybe that was the part that stung the most, that as close as they’d been, Dean still hadn’t thought he could trust Cas with this. 

Wyoming seemed to last forever. He made a goal of crossing into Utah before he’d stop for the night, but he found himself starting to drift off before he made it that far. He grabbed his bag and the crumpled remains of his fast food lunch and stood on stiff legs listening to the sound of intermittent traffic on the highway. Crossing under the single light post in the dark parking lot, he made his way to the motel office. 

He was hungry, but the thought of getting back in the car again had him purchasing his dinner from the vending machines around the side of the building. Alone in his room, he pulled off his clothes and started the already-dripping shower. The water pressure was mostly non-existent and he had to bend his knees to get his head all the way under to wet his hair, but it felt good to wash off the grime of the long day of traveling. Other than a few pleasantries with the drive thru person and the motel clerk, he hadn’t spoken to another human all day long. The strangeness of everything suited his mood: the orange and brown wallpaper, the pink porcelain of the bathroom fixtures, even the jagged mountains shrouded in darkness outside his window. 

The closer he got to Oregon, the less he wanted to stop. Even though there were still three hundred miles left once he crossed the border from Idaho, he pushed on. It was foolish. He had nothing other than a town name, no definite destination, no place to stay. This was not how he generally operated. Cas was a planner, detail oriented, needing to be comfortable with the big picture before he threw himself into small steps. It was what appealed to him so much about engineering. A goal, a problem to solve, a solid foundation to reach a specific endpoint. This journey was nothing more than a scattering of dandelion fuzz in a westerly direction. 

Find Dean. That was it. His mother had stayed uncharacteristically silent on the decision. They’d had a few more conversations and, while she hadn’t tried to talk him out of this quest, she’d cautioned him. “I know this information is all new to you,” she’d said. “But Dean has been living with this for most of his life. It’s up to him to share it.”

Cas had bristled at that. Like he was going to rush in and clutch Dean to his chest. _ Is it true your mom killed herself? _

Honestly, he wasn’t sure what he would say. Maybe he could’ve gotten away with it in Mapleton, but there was no pretending this was just a chance encounter. Not when he’d driven almost completely across the country. 

By the time he reached Madras, it was late. Sitting at the stoplight at the end of the off ramp, he rolled his stiff shoulders and tried to blink away the grit from his exhausted eyes. He rolled down the window a bit to let in some cold, fresh air, trying to shake the half-daze that allowed him to focus solely on the miles stretched before him. It had been a relief to lose himself in all the driving, but now he needed time to get himself firmly anchored to the ground before he figured out his next move. Hopefully he’d find Dean listed in the phone book and he could at least start with an address. Maybe he’d even call first. He pushed down a bubble of unease at the thought. What if Dean hung up on him? Maybe he’d be angry with whoever gave Cas his location. If he wanted Cas to know where he was, he could’ve told him. Cas pictured himself dejectedly swinging a u-turn and pointing his car back east. A phone call might not be the best option. 

In the meantime, he’d shower and get some sleep. First, though, he really had to pee. From where he sat at the stoplight, he saw something lit up to the left, so he turned the car that way. The sign declared itself open twenty-four hours, so whatever it was, he’d stop there and then ask directions to a motel. 

In the dark, he overshot the driveway and had to turn in to the next place of business. Luckily the parking lots connected and he was able to drive around the back to reach the lot. He had his choice of empty spots but he stepped on the brake sharply. There, parked under a light post, a car gleamed like a ghost. Or the opposite of a ghost, because this was black. A big black car he’d know anywhere. Cas pulled into the space alongside it, letting his eyes travel over the long lines of the vintage car. It looked to be in excellent condition, which didn’t surprise him one bit. 

Cas took off his seat belt, but he stayed in the car. Resting his forearms on the steering wheel, he peered into the glowing windows. The restaurant was small, but had all the hallmarks of a diner. Cas could see booths and a scattering of tables, plus a counter with red-topped stools. A bakery case sat next to the register and a chalkboard hanging on the wall listed the specials, but Cas was too far away to read it. Cas couldn’t see the entire restaurant, but he glanced at each customer he could see in turn. It had been years, but Cas was confident none of them were Dean. A man with long blonde hair sat in a corner table reading a newspaper. Three women, students from the look of it, sat together with a pile of books and notebooks. An older man dozed in one of the booths. As Cas sat there, the swinging door behind the counter opened. Cas inhaled sharply. Dean wore a black t-shirt and jeans, with a white apron tied around his waist. He held a black plastic tray full of white coffee mugs and as Cas watched, he slid the tray onto the counter and began to unload them. Cas watched Dean work, watched him deftly move neat stacks, quickly and carefully making room for them all. He disappeared again, taking the empty tray to the back, then reappeared, this time walking around the front of the counter to check and straighten the displays there. Dean was taller, his shoulders and chest broader, but Cas would know him anywhere. He smiled to himself as he spotted his familiar bow-legged gait. 

Cas jumped in his seat, startled by a sudden, loud thump on the roof of his car. A large bear of a man stood in the parking lot, wearing an apron matching Dean’s. He bent down to look into the partially open car window. 

“Can I help you?” Despite the southern drawl, his words were anything but hospitable. 

“Uh, I was just…” Cas started.

“Yeah, I can see that,” he said, following Castiel’s gaze to where Dean was polishing the bakery case. “Usually it’s a gaggle of girls hanging around here for a glimpse of him, but hey, I don’t judge.”

“I’m sorry,” Cas said, reaching for the key still hanging in the ignition. “I should go.” But the man stayed leaning in. 

“Illinois plates. You take a wrong turn?”

“I’m an old friend of Dean’s,” he said, hoping that would be enough to explain why he was sitting in the dark at almost midnight staring in the window.

“Well, then, why didn’t you say so? Come on in and say hello. Clearly you’ve come a long way.” Again, the words were friendly but there was an unspoken challenge on the man’s face. 

Cas felt panic rising in his throat. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He could see Dean looking to the parking lot now, probably wondering what his co-worker was up to. Cas pulled the keys from the ignition and the man straightened up and stepped back so that Cas could get out of the car. He closed the car door behind him and carefully locked it before following the man. 

“I came out the back door to empty the trash, but we’ll go on in the front seeing as you’re company.”

Cas wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans and followed in silence. The man opened the door to the diner, a small bell tinkling as he did so. He held the door open and made a broad motion to usher Castiel in. By now, Dean was back behind the counter, but he turned to the door at the sound of the bell.

“Lookit what I found outside, Dean. Says he’s a friend of yours.”

Cas stood frozen inside the small, warmly lit space. His feet stayed rooted to the ground as the large man walked around him, turning to face him with his arms crossed in front of his chest. Dean put down the towel and his brow furrowed. “Cas?”

As Dean approached, Cas tried to find his voice, but he was too overwhelmed at the unexpected sight of him. _ This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. _

“Cas, what are you doing here?”

Ah. It was a good question. A valid one for sure. Really, given the scenario, there was no way this wasn’t the first question Dean asked. And with all of those hours and miles with nothing to do but drive, Cas had spent some time imagining what he would say, but that had assumed an entirely different scenario. Now Dean was looking at him expectantly, his green eyes warm with concern and confusion, and any of Cas’s previous thoughts disappeared.

“My dad died,” Cas said, and it came out of nowhere along with the sob that wrenched out of his chest. Even as his eyes stung with tears, he saw the big man make himself scarce, busying himself behind the counter. 

Dean’s eyes widened and he crossed to Cas and put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry. Come in, let me get you something to drink.”

Cas nodded and tried to get his ragged breathing back under control. He spotted a sign for the bathrooms. “I’m just gonna...”

“Yeah, sure, whatever you need, man.” 

Cas kept his eyes forward as he walked, sure that everyone in the place was staring at him. He locked himself in the bathroom and resisted the urge to bang his head against the door. He never should have come here but there wasn’t even a window he could climb out of to escape. So he peed and washed his hands and splashed cold water on his face until the tears stopped prickling at his eyes. He could see that he looked pale and exhausted, unshaven and overdue for a haircut. No wonder he’d been approached in the parking lot. He had the creeper look down to a tee. An almost hysterical laugh bubbled out of him and he dried his hands one last time before sighing and unlocking the door. Dean and the other man were conferring in low tones, but Dean stepped away abruptly when he caught sight of Cas. He picked up a mug and carried it over to a booth in front of the window. 

“Tea,” he said, when Cas sat down. “Do you take anything in it?”

“Some honey?” Cas said and Dean retrieved a squeeze bottle and a spoon from the counter.

Cas added the honey and slowly stirred, watching the swirls incorporate. He kept stirring just to give himself something to do. Dean hovered over him for a moment, then slid into the bench across from him. 

“So what happened with your dad?” he asked softly.

Cas tapped the spoon on the edge of the mug and set it on the table. “Cancer,” he said with a bitter laugh. “Never had another issue with his heart, but by the time they found the cancer, it had spread everywhere."

“I’m sorry. When did it happen?”

“It’s been almost a month.” He gestured toward the door, toward the spot where he’d made a fool of himself. “I don’t know why that happened. I think I’m just tired. I’m sorry for showing up like this and disturbing you at work.”

Dean waved off the apology. “Nah, don’t worry about it. I was just surprised to see you. Hope Benny didn’t rattle you too much.” 

Cas was grateful for the change in topic. “I don’t blame him. I’m sure I looked suspicious.”

“He’s a good guy. Right, Benny?” he called across the space. “More teddy bear than grizzly.” 

Without looking up from where he was wiping the counter, Benny growled.

“How did you even…?” Dean began, asking the next obvious question.

“I went back to Mapleton and I saw Charlie. She...filled me in a bit. Told me you were out here.” Dean didn’t look away but Cas saw a muscle in his jaw twitch a little. “She told me Sam was at Stanford?”

At that, Dean grinned. Cas felt the warmth of affection at seeing him so happy. “He sure is. Got himself a full ride.”

“That’s great.”

“It is. He loves it. So, how long are you here for?” 

Cas shrugged. “I don’t know. I took the rest of the semester off, so I don’t really have a plan.”

“Castiel Novak without a plan?” Dean leaned back and laughed. “Wow, you_ have _ changed.”

Cas blushed a little and drank some of the soothing tea to hide it. 

“Where are you staying?”

“Uh,” Cas said. “I’d appreciate any recommendations.”

Dean gaped at him. “You’re serious about the no plan thing.”

After the rush of excitement at seeing Dean, the exhaustion was settling heavily in his bones again. “Turns out it’s not that great, really.”

“Ok,” Dean said. “You can stay with me. It’s not far from here and the couch is comfy.”

“Oh no. I wouldn’t dream of putting you out.” Cas said hurriedly. “That’s not why I’m here.”

Dean raised one eyebrow. “No arguments. I’m here till five a.m., but I’ll give you directions and my key.” He pulled a pen out of his apron pocket and flipped over the paper placemat in front of him to write out his address and sketch a rough map. 

Cas took the opportunity to study him. His jaw was sharper than it used to be, more defined and masculine, and he was wearing his hair short. His lashes were long as ever and his eyes as green, but there was something guarded in them, and a crease seemed permanently etched between his eyes. He was tanned and freckled and his arms were corded with muscle, but the look of good health was somewhat tempered by the tight set of his mouth. Cas reluctantly drew his eyes up from Dean’s full lips as he pushed the map across the table, giving him a few pointers about the route along with it. 

“Lemme grab my key from the back.” 

Cas finished the tea, then picked up the empty mug and spoon and looked around for a place to put them. Benny caught his eye and jerked his head toward the counter, so he stood and took them over. 

“Sorry about before, brother. Lot of people come through here and we get some odd ones.”

”I understand,” Cas said. 

“Dean doesn’t talk much about his past. Hell, I don’t talk much about mine either. But we look out for each other.”

“I understand,” Cas repeated, fully aware that Benny’s words were more promise—maybe even bordering on a threat—than pure information. 

Dean looked between them when he came back, but he didn’t say anything as he passed off the apartment key. 

“Thank you,” Cas finally said, when he realized he was staring. He made an awkward gesture toward the door. “I’ll get out of your hair.”

The drive was less than ten minutes and Cas was one of the few cars out on the road this late at night. Dean’s directions were clear and he pulled into the parking lot of the three-story apartment building, parking in a spot marked visitor and taking his duffle from the trunk. Following Dean’s directions, he walked around the corner of the building to find the exterior metal staircase. He climbed the stairs to a small landing that led to two doors. Dean’s was on the right. Cas unlocked it and stepped inside, fumbling along the wall until he switched on a light. 

The door opened into a living room, sparsely furnished with a mismatched couch and armchair. The couch faced a television and VCR that sat on a low table. A record player was next to the television, with albums and movies stacked in milk crates on the floor. Cas stood in the doorway for a moment before venturing in and dropping his bag on the armchair. Even with Dean’s key and express permission, being here without him felt wrong, like he was sneaking a look into his diary. In the open kitchen area behind the couch, a few dishes were drying on a rack. A small formica-topped table and two wooden chairs sat in the corner of the kitchen. One chair was clear, but the second was piled high with mail and papers. Two doors led from the living room and Cas crossed to them. The first was a small bathroom with a tub/shower combination. The second was the single bedroom furnished with an unmade double bed, a chest of drawers, and a single night stand. The walls were all painted the same flat beige, and threadbare grey carpet extended throughout the apartment, even into the bathroom. Only the kitchen differed, with cracked and faded linoleum on the floor.

The place was neat, but looking around, Cas wasn’t sure Dean even had enough belongings to mess it up. He hesitated in the bedroom doorway, but Dean had told him to take a pillow from his bed to go with the blanket already draped over the back of the couch, so he crossed the threshold. One of Dean’s flannel shirts was tossed haphazardly on the bed, and Cas ran his fingertips along the extended sleeve, mentally talking himself out of picking it up and smelling it. Instead, he walked around the bed to pick up the pillow from the far side, away from the nightstand. 

From here, he caught sight of a small collection of items on the nightstand, turned to face the bed. Even though Dean wasn’t expected back for hours, he still glanced at the doorway before moving closer to them. Two loose photographs were propped between a small wooden box and the base of the lamp. One picture was of Sam and Dean, Sam done up in his high school graduation cap and gown, a white mantle and a variety of cords around his neck indicating honor society and academic achievement. Cas noted in amazement the way Sam towered over his older brother, all lanky limbs and floppy hair. Sam smiled at the camera, but Dean had his head turned, smiling at Sam. The other was a picture of Mary. He didn't know when it had been taken, but it captured her young, happy, and smiling in the sunshine.

No matter what he’d tried to tell himself as he drove west, any question in his mind about his feelings for Dean had all been answered the moment he laid eyes on him through that window. He felt that same pull toward him, the need to stay in his orbit. Despite the awkward events surrounding their reacquaintance, he felt something solid and centered deep inside him for the first time in a long time. 

Cas switched off the light in Dean’s room, leaving the door open as he’d found it. In the bathroom he brushed his teeth, then stripped down into a t-shirt and boxers. He double checked that the front door was unlocked before climbing into his makeshift bed. The apartment building was quiet, only the hum of the refrigerator broke the silence. The green light of the digital clock on the VCR glowed steadily, then danced and wavered as he drifted off to sleep.


	13. Chapter 13

He never heard Dean come in, but when Cas awoke just after seven o’clock and pushed up on one elbow he saw that Dean’s bedroom door was closed. Cas lay back down, pulling the blanket up to his shoulders. The entire apartment seemed different in the light of day and with the knowledge that he was no longer alone. He stayed as quiet as possible, imagining he could hear Dean breathing, but all he heard was the distant slam of a door followed by the sound of a car engine starting. When he got up, he found a fresh towel folded neatly and balanced on the edge of the sink. He retrieved his toiletry bag from his duffle so that he could shower. 

There were chips in the porcelain tub and hard water deposits around the handle that controlled the spray, but the water pressure was good and the hot water seemed plentiful. It was strangely intimate to stand naked in Dean’s shower, using his shampoo and sharing his bar of soap. When Cas let his thoughts linger there too long, focused too much on Dean soaping himself up, he shoved at the dial to blast away his ridiculous teen-age musings with cold water.

Mostly dry, with the towel wrapped around his waist, he used his forearm to wipe the condensation from the mirror. Running the flat of his hand over his prickly jaw, he filled the sink with hot water so he could shave. Even though the couch was narrow, he’d slept well and that plus the shower had the strain of the hours spent cooped up in his car fading away. His stomach rumbled and he thought back to the burger he’d grabbed last night somewhere in eastern Oregon. He’d been living on fast food and gas station snacks for days, but now he had access to an actual kitchen. He finished getting dressed, packing back up his toothbrush and razor, wiping the sink down and neatly hanging up his towel. Dean was kind enough to open his small apartment to him, the least he could do was keep his things unobtrusive. 

Cas took stock of the kitchen. There was orange juice and milk in the fridge, along with a package of lunch meat, a jar of mustard, and some strawberry jam. In one cabinet he found part of a loaf of white bread, a box of cereal, a jar of peanut butter, a crumpled, mostly empty bag of pretzels, and three bags of coffee, all the same brand they served at the diner. One cabinet held only a large bottle of whiskey along with a sharpie and a ruler. Cas saw a series of black marks on the outside of the bottle, the last one in line with the current level of the whiskey. He closed that cabinet quietly and went back to the living room, refolding the blanket and replacing it over the back of the couch. Assuming it would be fine to leave the door unlocked again, he retrieved his wallet and keys but left Dean’s key on the coffee table.

Last night on his way to Dean’s apartment he’d passed a Safeway so he pulled the car out of the lot and turned back the way he’d come. In the light of day, he could see Madras was nestled in the shadow of the Cascade range, with Mount Hood looming over like a sentinel in the distance. He found the Safeway easily and worked his way up and down the aisles trying to decide how much food said  _ thanks for saving me the cost of a motel _ without crossing the line into  _ I’m worried you aren’t feeding yourself properly.  _ He wandered leisurely, happy to be walking after all that time driving, assuming Dean wouldn’t be up for a few more hours. By the time he started the drive back to Dean’s apartment, it was nearly 9:30. The sky was clear and blue, even though he could see clouds amassing around the tip of Mount Hood to the west. 

Much of the lot was empty on his return, and that was when he realized it must be a weekday and people would be at work. Without the structure he’d been used to at school, he’d been losing track of what day it was. And ever since his dad died, time had unwound in front of him. Days seemed to stretch interminably, much longer than the twenty-four hours allotted to them. 

Lifting the bags from the backseat, Cas could feel it was already noticeably warmer than when he left. He climbed the stairs to Dean’s door, shifting both bags to one hand so that he could turn the knob. The first thing he noticed was that Dean’s bedroom door was now open. A split second later, he realized Dean was crouched against the doorframe, his head in his hands. Dean lifted his head as the door opened and the light from outside spilled in. He stared blankly at Cas before letting his gaze travel over the folded blanket on the couch to the key sitting on the coffee table. From Cas’s vantage point, he could see his own bag zipped and resting on the floor, but from where Dean was, it must’ve looked like Castiel had woken up, packed, and left. 

An awkward silence stretched between them as Dean scrambled to his feet and all Cas could think to do was hold up the grocery bags as a silent explanation. “I picked up some things for breakfast,” he added, in case it wasn’t clear.

Dean, still in a t-shirt and flannel pajama pants, nodded and cleared his throat.

“I can start making it if you want to shower,” Cas said quickly, putting a stop to whatever Dean was going to say.

Dean took the out and disappeared into the bathroom. 

Cas slumped for a moment against the closed front door then crossed to the kitchen, lifting the bags onto the counter to unload them. He started a pot of coffee before opening and closing the bottom cupboards until he found a couple of frying pans. In one he laid strips of bacon, letting it start to cook as he dug around some more, finding a mixing bowl and then opening drawers to discover a spatula. The coffee pot was still sputtering and hissing when the shower turned off and Cas busied himself with whisking a little milk into the eggs he’d cracked. When the bathroom door opened, Dean didn’t even glance his way, walking to his bedroom with nothing more than a towel around his waist. 

By the time Dean came back out fully dressed, he smiled at Cas, “Smells good in here.” The empty look in his eyes was gone now and he moved confidently in his own space, pulling one mug from the dish drainer and another from the cabinet to pour them each a cup. “How do you take yours?”

“Just some milk, please,” Cas said, still holding the fork he’d been beating the eggs with.

Dean opened the fridge. “Uh, I can’t vouch for this milk—“

“I bought some more.” Cas gestured to the open carton on the counter and Dean stepped past him to reach it. He smelled fresh, like soap and deodorant and from this close, Cas could see the hair at the nape of his neck was still wet. “The eggs will only take a few minutes. Did you want your bagel toasted?”

“Uh, sure. Here, I can do it.” He stirred a little milk into Cas’s coffee and passed it to him just as Cas was handing him the sleeve of bagels. They fumbled, hands brushing, until Cas finally put down the fork and took the mug. He could feel his face reddening, so he turned back to the stove, setting down the coffee without drinking from it. Using the spatula to cut a hunk of butter, he tossed it into the hot pan, angling it as it melted to coat the entire thing. With the bagels toasting, Dean came to stand next to Cas in the small space. He eyed the bacon, then opened the cupboard to reach down a stack of plates, pulling a few paper towels off the roll to line one of them. Cas stepped to the side, still stirring the eggs, and they stood shoulder to shoulder, working silently. 

It wasn’t until everything was ready and there was a table safely between them that the conversation resumed. 

“You didn’t have to do all this,” Dean said, even as he filled his plate.

“ _ You _ didn’t have to give me a place to stay,” Cas countered, feeling more at ease now that he didn’t have to worry about him waltzing around half-naked or awkward brushes with him in the kitchen.

“‘Course I did,” Dean said. “It’s good to see you.” 

Cas warmed at the sentiment. “You, too.” They smiled almost shyly at each other, then Dean put most of a strip of bacon in his mouth while Cas slathered cream cheese on a bagel. “So, you work nights? I didn’t think you’d be up so early today.” It was the closest thing to an apology Cas could think to make without acknowledging the incident earlier.

Dean shrugged and chewed. “I only need my four hours.”

“What do you do with the rest of your time?”

“I do auto repair during the day.”

“You’re working two jobs?” Cas tried to temper his surprise. From the looks of the apartment, Dean certainly wasn’t living a lavish lifestyle, and Madras didn’t strike him as a type of place with an expensive cost of living.

Dean pushed some eggs around on his plate. “I like to make sure Sammy has some spending money. Otherwise he’ll sit in the library and study all day.”

“I still can’t picture him as a college student, I swear, I still see him with pockets full of pine cones and pebbles.”

“Well, he was a nerd from the start. Kinda like you.”

Cas laughed. “I was never a Stanford level nerd.”

“Yeah, I mean, the kid’s super-smart so I wasn’t that surprised, but yeah, it’s cool.” There was definite pride in his voice, but watching him, Cas saw something else, too. A tightness in the set of his mouth. “He got in everywhere he applied, but no, it had to be California.”

“Is that how you ended up in Oregon? So you’d be closer to him?”

“It’s still a full day’s drive to get there,” he said, which didn’t really answer the question.

“Closer than Kansas, though,” Cas offered.

Dean nodded. “Not a whole lot left for me there anymore.”

“Charlie told me about your mom.” Dean stiffened as soon as the words were spoken. “I’m really sorry.”

“Thanks.” But he was already out of his seat, picking up the coffee pot and turning to refill both their cups. “So, where are you these days?” he asked, his back to Cas as he replaced the carafe.

“Northwestern. I’m getting my Master’s in mechanical engineering, but I took the semester off to help with my dad.”

“How’s your mom doing?”

Cas held his mug in both hands as he considered. “She’s…okay. It helped that he had some time to get everything in order before…” He trailed off, nervously realizing the sharp contrast to Dean’s situation. “But even knowing—it was still hard.”

“I bet.” They ate for a few more minutes in silence. Just as Cas was working up the courage to ask about John, Dean spoke. “I’m not scheduled at the garage today so I could show you around, if you want. Or are you…?”

“That would be great.”

Together they cleaned up from breakfast, keeping to safe topics as they worked. 

Dean locked the door behind them and they walked down the stairs to where the Impala was parked. In the light of day Cas could see how it gleamed, obviously well-tended. He smiled as he ran a hand lightly over the trunk. 

“I think this is the only thing that hasn’t changed.” Cas had ridden in the Impala plenty of times as a kid, but always in the large back seat along with as many neighborhood kids would fit. This was his first time riding in the front, and Dean laughed when he told him as much.

“Whole different experience from up here,” he said, and Cas tried to keep his body language casual as Dean carelessly tossed one arm across the back of his seat to reverse out of the spot. Dean took him back onto the main road, but headed in the opposite direction, away from the Safeway and the diner. 

“I thought Oregon was rainy.”

Dean lifted a hand from the wheel and gestured to where clouds had gathered around the snow-capped mountain peak in the distance. “This part of Oregon is high desert. That’s Mt. Hood. If we were to drive up there, the whole thing could change. We only get a fraction of the rain places like Portland get because the weather systems get hung up there.”

He drove them up and down the main road, and Cas began to get his bearings a little bit. The view was expansive, but it showed just how small the town itself was, as open land stretched toward the foothills. Unlike grassy farmland, the ground was rocky, low scrub interspersed with tall pine trees. “Much of this was formed from lava flows,” Dean explained. “There are caves and tunnels you can tour, but I’ve never been. There are some places not far from here that look like the surface of the moon.”

Cas couldn’t resist. “We’re not in Kansas anymore.”

Dean rewarded him with a smile. “When I first came out here, I planned to keep going. Portland or Seattle, maybe. I saw that mountain though, and it was like I couldn’t muster up the energy to head up and over it. I stopped at the diner to get some coffee and when I saw they were hiring, I applied on the spot.” 

“It’s a hell of a view,” Cas said. He wondered if he ever would have been able to find Dean in the city. 

“We’re not far from my other job, if you want to see it.”

“Sure.” 

Dean drove them toward the base of the foothills, turning in at a rusty metal sign that read Singer Auto Body. The long driveway extended back to meet a small house set alongside a triple garage open to reveal occupied work bays. Dean smoothly pulled the Impala off to the side and a bearded man stepped outside, pulling his trucker hat more firmly down onto his head.

“What’re you doing here?”

Dean motioned for Cas to get out. “Hey, Bobby, this is my friend Cas. He’s visiting from—“ he glanced at Cas, “out of town. He and I grew up together.”

After regarding Cas at length, Bobby turned back to Dean. “You don’t say.”

Cas stepped forward to shake Bobby’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you, sir. Dean speaks highly of his job here.”

Bobby eyed Cas suspiciously. “Well, I’d like to say he speaks highly of you, but you’re the first piece of his mysterious past to materialize.”

Cas didn’t know what to make of this so he turned to Dean for explanation. Dean toed at the gravel under his feet before meeting Cas’s eyes. “Bobby doesn’t understand the concept of ‘fresh start.” I think he and Benny are convinced I’m in the witness protection program.”

Cas wasn’t sure whether it was appropriate to laugh at this or not, although it did explain Benny’s behavior last night a little bit more. “Ah. Perhaps my showing up unannounced late at night didn’t help with that.”

Bobby laughed. “Oh, this just keeps getting better. You boys want to come in?” He held the screen door open and they followed him inside, Dean dropping easily into an overstuffed chair in the messy living room. Cas stood tentatively, not wanting to disturb the books and papers piled on almost every surface. 

He stood until Dean got back to his feet and shoved some books into a pile on one side of the couch. “Here,” he said and Cas sat just as Bobby came back into the room.

Bobby settled into a chair behind a wooden desk. “So, you knew Dean back in Kansas?”

“Yes, when I was ten my family bought the house two doors down.”

Bobby peered at him. “You don’t look like the crowd I figured he ran with.”

Cas glanced down. He was wearing jeans, like Dean. Unlike the t-shirt/flannel combination Dean had on, Cas wore a short-sleeved polo shirt. He looked at Bobby in his plaid and denim and felt like everything about him said he shouldn’t be here. 

“Cas was always the nerdy friend,” Dean smiled at him.

Cas smiled back. “Better than a dumb jock.”

“Nerdy friends are good. They keep you out of trouble,” Bobby said.

“Probably his fault I got into trouble when I did,” Dean said. “He moved away when we were in high school and it was all downhill from there.” Dean’s tone was light and teasing, but Cas remembered Charlie telling him how things had gotten worse until Dean had dropped out of school.

Cas shifted in his seat. “I’m sure my being around wouldn’t have changed anything.” It came out a little more defensive than he’d intended.

Dean shrugged and lifted one eyebrow. “Who knows? Maybe I’d be halfway through med school by now.”

“You never wanted to go to med school.” Cas said, frowning.

“Okay, maybe I’d be playing in the major leagues, then.”

“You quit baseball before I left,” Cas pointed out.

Bobby cleared his throat. “Sorry to interrupt this traipse down memory lane, but I can’t sit around all day listening to you two bicker like an old married couple.” He stood and approached Cas, who hurried to his feet. “Nice to meet you. Come back any time. We do our best with him—“ he cocked his chin toward Dean, “but I expect your visit has done more than we ever could.” Dean had his hands shoved in his pocket and Cas could see his jaw working as he stared at his shoes. 

“Thank you, sir. It was nice to meet you.” Cas shook his hand and followed Dean back out to the car.

Dust kicked up as they drove back along the driveway to the road. “This reminds me of the old dirt road by my house,” Cas said to break the silence.

Dean nodded.

“It’s paved now. I don’t know how long ago that happened.”

Dean sounded genuinely surprised. “That’s news to me. Must be fairly recent.”

“When’s the last time you were back there?”

“It’s been almost two years. I threw what I could fit in the Impala and never looked back.”

“The tree’s gone,” Cas said softly.

“What?” Dean took his eyes off the road to look at him.

“The climbing tree. It’s gone. Along with most of the woods. They built houses on that lot.”

As Cas watched, a hard mask came over Dean’s features. His lips thinned as the set of his jaw tightened and he turned his attention back to the road. “Prime real estate, I guess. Close to the school and the park…”

“I remember the woods as being so big, but looks like they only built six houses. Didn’t it seem like it stretched on for miles?”

Dean shrugged one shoulder. “I mean, we could always see those houses on the other side. It couldn’t have been that big.”

“No, I know,” Cas tried to explain what he meant. “It just felt bigger. Full of possibilities, somehow.”

“Don’t go getting all sappy on me,” Dean said. “We were just smaller then.”

Cas folded his hands in his lap and turned to study the view outside the passenger side window. 

That evening, Cas accompanied Dean to his shift at the diner, following him in his own car. While Dean clocked in and got his apron, Cas found a seat at an empty table, laying out a box of thank you notes and a pen. He’d told his mother that he’d write personal thank yous to all of the people who made donations to their church in memory of his father. He’d been putting it off, but today he needed to tackle it. Before he could get started, Dean was back again, offering to bring him coffee, which Cas readily accepted.

Cas unfolded the address list, smoothing the paper with his hand. He picked up his pen to write, but found himself instead watching Dean. There was an elegance to his movements as he filled the industrial sized pot with fresh grounds and water. He easily shifted his attention between greeting people coming in the door, delivering food and drinks to tables, and tending the cash register. He looked comfortable here, engaged and at home, chatting with Benny and customers who must be regulars, and after a day peppered with awkward silences, it warmed Cas to see it. 

Cas had just finished the fifth thank you note when Dean came by with a cup of his own. He hooked a foot around the chair leg to pull it out and sat down across from Cas. “Things are quiet for now, thought I’d come check in. Are you bored? Need more coffee?’

“I’m fine. Thank you, Dean.” Cas licked the envelope to seal it, flushing a little when Dean tracked the movement. 

“Bye, Dean,” a young woman said, touching his shoulder as she moved toward the door.

“Bye, Shelly.”

“See you tomorrow night?”

“Nah, I’m off tomorrow.” Her face fell ever so slightly but then she smiled and tossed her long dark hair out of her face. The bell above the door sounded as she left.

“Do you get a lot of regulars?” Cas asked.

Dean leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table on either side of his cup. “Yeah, it’s kind of like a bar, you know? You get a lot of the same people, but they’re here for different reasons. I tended bar for a while and there, people are looking for ways to lose themselves. To forget their troubles. They’d get drunker and louder and looser. Here, people want quiet, but not so quiet that they feel alone. They come here and do their own thing, Like that guy there.” He nodded to a young dark-haired man sitting in the corner, writing furiously in a journal. “He’s in here almost every night, sucking down coffee and writing like crazy. I have no idea what he’s working on. He doesn’t want to make small talk and that’s fine with me.” He took a sip of his coffee. “We get a lot of people driving from central Oregon back to Portland. They stop for something to eat before they head back over the mountain. Sometimes we get people with babies who won’t sleep. They come in and get coffee because the only thing that keeps the baby happy is driving around endlessly in the night. One night we had a guy come in here with a baby in a carseat. The poor thing was wailing his head off. The dad kept apologizing and trying to rock the carseat with his foot as he paid. We weren’t too busy so Benny came out and asked if he could hold the baby and the dad was so desperate at this point that he said yes. So Benny took him out of the seat and tucked him against his chest and started swaying and bouncing and singing some old Cajun song to the baby.” Dean smiled at the memory. “Got him calmed down and asleep in about five minutes. The dad just stood there staring, then he left a hell of a tip.” 

Cas smiled too, both at the soft look on Dean’s face and at the thought of big, intimidating Benny cradling an infant. 

“And the one who just left?” Cas prompted, enjoying the way Dean was talking so freely. “Shelly?”

“Her daughter stays with her ex-husband every other weekend. She hates being in the house by herself those nights, so she comes here.”

_ Both pretty and available, _ Cas thought, but he stopped himself from saying it. “And you? What are you doing here, Dean?” He wasn’t sure whether he was asking about the diner or Madras in general. As happy as he was for Sam, the unfairness in their situations nagged at him. “You could be anywhere doing any—”

“I told you. They were hiring.” Dean hooked a thumb toward the register. “I gotta get back to work.” Cas pretended to busy himself leafing through the completed notes as Dean walked away.

It was after midnight, his notes written, sealed, and addressed and a chapter of his book read without any lasting comprehension when Cas stood, stretched, and packed up his things. Dean glanced up from the counter. “I’m gonna head out,” Cas said. It had been the plan all along; Cas would come hang out until he got tired and went back to Dean’s apartment. But the spirit of accommodation in which the plan had been made seemed to have dispersed like the rich scent of coffee in the air.

Dean dug the key out of his pocket. “Yeah, sure.” He slid it across the counter and Cas waited until he’d pulled back his hand to reach for it.

“I’ll leave the door unlocked.” Cas should go. He should turn and walk out the front door accompanied by the thin chime of the bell. But he stood there waiting for words that didn’t come. Dean turned away, twisting a towel in his hands. 

“Don’t worry about breakfast,” he said. “I’ll fix myself something when I get up.”

Dismissed, Cas nodded and left.

Back in Dean’s apartment, he lay awake for a long time. Maybe it was nothing more than proximity that had brought them together. Would they have become friends had they lived two blocks apart? One, even? Their differences could be stretched between them, piled as tall as the non-existent tree they used to climb. They shared a history, but the time they’d spent apart was nearly equal to the time they’d spent together, and maybe the realities of their divergent paths had long since rubbed away the uncertain strands that bound them together. Cas reached for the marble, carefully nestled in the ring of his keys on the coffee table, and rolled it between his thumb and forefinger. Sighing, he set it back on the table and turned onto his side, letting the back of the couch fill his field of vision. 

He woke with his heart pounding, the windows filled with early morning light. He’d just unbunched his grip on the blanket when he heard an anguished cry, the same sound that echoed in his ears when he woke in the silent, empty room. Groggy with sleep, he pushed aside the blanket and sat up. A smaller sound, almost a sob, came from Dean’s room. Cas stood and crossed to the door, one hand raised to knock. “Dean?” He tapped on the door, but got no response other than another distressed sound. Cas turned the knob, half-expecting to be shouted at for so blatantly disrespecting Dean’s privacy. Instead, he found Dean asleep, but clearly in the throes of a nightmare. He’d kicked one leg free of the covers and, as Cas watched, he tossed his head back and forth, one hand scrabbling above him, fingers closing around air as his face contorted in pain. Cas crossed the room to stand next to the bed. He said Dean’s name once, then again a little louder, but Dean was unreached. He tried a third time, this time with a hand firmly jostling Dean’s shoulder.

At the touch, Dean’s eyes flew open and he sat up, reaching for Cas, clutching at his shirt with both hands hard enough that Cas was pulled forward, one knee sinking into the mattress. “Did you call? Are they coming?” Dean demanded, eyes panicked and voice frantic.

Cas circled Dean’s wrists with his hands and spoke calmly. “You’re having a nightmare, Dean. Everything’s okay.”

As Cas watched, Dean blinked a few times, his face slackening as he breathed through parted lips. He stared at Cas, unseeing, his pupils still wide with fear, shaken out of the dream’s clutches even if he wasn’t fully awake. Dean fell back onto the pillows tugging Cas down with him, hands still fisted in his shirt. Cas tried to untangle himself but each time he did, Dean, his eyes closed now, made a small sound of displeasure until Cas stopped fighting him and stretched out alongside him. Dean burrowed closer, head tucked along Cas’s shoulder, gradually releasing him until his hands were loosely splayed across Cas’s chest.

Cas listened as his breathing dropped into the regular cadence of deep sleep. From this close, he could feel as Dean’s heartbeat gradually returned to normal. Cas ached to put a protective arm around him, to soothe him with fingers in his hair, but he knew he was here in Dean’s bed solely as a warm, comforting pressure. He could be anyone; he was the one who was here.

The warmth and reassurance of another heartbeat were too much and Cas slipped back into sleep. 

When he woke again, maybe an hour had passed and Dean had moved, leaving a gap between them. Cas opened his eyes to see Dean’s back and shoulder and he crept quietly out of the bed, pulling the door shut behind him.

When Dean woke for the day, Cas was showered and sitting on the couch reading, or at least pretending to. The vast majority of his concentration centered on whether Dean would acknowledge or even remember what had happened. Maybe it was Cas’s responsibility to broach the subject. Dean, after all, did nothing but sleep in his own bed. Cas should’ve disentangled himself, he thought miserably, he was way out of line. Only…Dean slept so peacefully with him there. And providing him with a measure of comfort was important, right? The thoughts chased each other around in pointless circles until Cas heard the click of the knob. Then his mind went unexpectedly blank as a cold wave of anxiety washed over him. Dean met his eyes briefly before flicking away and Cas held his breath to see if Dean would acknowledge what he clearly remembered. 

“Did you, uh, have breakfast?” Dean asked, clearing his throat midway through the simple question.

“I made some toast.” Cas was somehow sure that was the wrong answer. “And there’s coffee,” he added unnecessarily, as Dean was already reaching for a mug from the cabinet. Dean fixed himself a cup of coffee as Cas stared blankly at his book, too hyper-aware of Dean’s motions to concentrate. He heard the scrape of the chair and didn’t have to look to know Dean was sitting facing the wall, leaving them basically back to back. A long, uncomfortable silence took up residence in the small apartment, seeming to swell and fill all the available space, continuing to grow and push the air out of Cas’s lungs. Finally he put down his book on the coffee table, misjudging the distance in his agitation and banging it against the wood. 

Despite telling himself to stay casual, he found himself unexpectedly on his feet, turning toward Dean who continued to brood (most attractively, Cas thought, before banishing the thought) over his coffee. 

“Do you get those a lot?” His voice came out in a rush, the compassion edged with unintended accusation. “The nightmares?” he added, as if Dean didn’t know what he was talking about. 

Dean sighed and rubbed the heel of one hand over his eye. “I get them enough to know there’s nothing to be done for them.” 

“Have you tried talking to someone about them?” Cas offered gently.

“We are so not having this conversation,” Dean muttered, getting to his feet. “I’ve got shit to do today,” he said, effectively steering things in a different direction. “If you want to come along, great.” He strode to the bathroom and pulled the door shut. 

A half hour later, Dean was showered and dressed. “I just need to —“ 

“Whatever’s fine. I’ll tag along, unless you’d rather I…”

“No, it’s fine.”

Cas sat on the couch and reached to put on his shoes, scrambling for his wallet and keys as he stood. Fumbling under the weight of Dean’s gaze, the marble rolled off the table, bouncing a few times before rolling to a stop on the low carpet. Dean took a few quick steps forward and scooped it up.

“What’s this?” he asked, still in a crouch.

“It’s a…marble.” Cas should really just stop trying to communicate verbally.

“I can see that,” Dean said, his tone the verbal equivalent of an eye roll. “What’s it for?”

Cas stood in silence as Dean straightened up, holding the marble and turning it to catch the light. “It’s just like…a good luck charm, I guess.” Dean closed his fist around it as a flicker of something Cas couldn’t quite read crossed his face. Taking a deep breath, Cas plunged forward. “Sam gave it to me, actually. It’s from the time you fell in the creek and I pulled you out.” He waited for Dean to respond, but all he got was downcast eyes, the furrow in his brow deepening. “He, uh, gave you one, too.” 

When Dean finally lifted his eyes to look at Cas, his mouth was tight. He worked his jaw for a few moments, eyes somewhere over Cas’s left shoulder. “I vaguely remember that.” He dropped it into Cas’s outstretched palm without even a brush of fingers. 

Cas felt the color rise in his cheeks at his own ridiculousness for holding onto the marble, for thinking it meant anything to anyone else, for driving halfway across the country to come here in the first place. He slipped it back in his pocket only because he wouldn’t give Dean the satisfaction of tossing it in the trash. 

As they drove around town, Cas did his best to keep up his end of the conversation, which wasn’t too difficult because Dean had suddenly and inexplicably become chatty. He pointed out places they passed, talking about the excellent milkshakes at this burger place or the overpriced “yuppie food” at that grocery. Cas listened as best he could, grateful on one level for Dean picking up the slack in the conversation, suffocated on the other hand by the continual sound which grated against his now-raw nerves. It wasn’t until they pulled into the Safeway parking lot that Dean turned to him. “You okay, man?”

Cas blinked at him.  _ No, _ he wanted to yell.  _ No, I’m not. You clung to me in the night, then dismissed my concern in the morning, before severing the last threads of hope that I’d kept carefully sheltered for the better part of a decade.  _ “I’m fine. Just woke up a little too early.” It wasn’t fair, but it was worth it to see the look on Dean’s face. 

“Look,” Dean began, but Cas had been put in his place enough for one day and so he pretended not to hear him and opened the car door.

The fluorescent lights in the supermarket did little to help the headache beginning to bloom behind his eyes, but he trailed behind nonetheless. 


	14. Chapter 14

Perhaps Dean knew he’d been too harsh in the morning, because the rest of the day unfolded pleasantly. Cas let Dean make it up to him, even accepting the offer of Dean cooking them dinner. If nothing else, Cas would enjoy this time with his old friend before returning to the safe confines of his real life. 

“Want a drink?”

“Sure.” 

Dean pulled open the fridge but closed it again. “I forgot to get beer.” He hesitated then turned to the cabinet. “I do have whiskey if you want.”

“That works.”

Lifting the bottle down, Dean looked at him a little sheepishly, but he held eye contact while he rotated it to show the series of hash marks. “Like my self-monitoring system? Don’t wanna turn into my dad.” The edge of bitterness in his voice betrayed the lightness of his words.

Cas couldn’t help but wince as much of his own self-pity drained away. “Do you hear much from him?”

Dean poured them both generous servings before responding. “I haven’t heard shit from him. Not even when mom died. You know how I knew he wasn’t coming back?” He looked at Cas with his eyebrows raised in question, and Cas shook his head. “He left the car. That’s how I knew it was final.”

“I’m sorry.” It was insufficient, but Cas didn’t know what to say. He thought of his mother telling him that he’d been oversimplifying things in making John the villain. “Maybe you were better off without him.”

Dean sighed. “Mom always blamed herself. Said she wasn’t able to be what he wanted.” His jaw worked silently for a moment. “Pretty sure when you get married you promise in sickness and in health.”

“Yeah,” Cas agreed softly. His mother had never once complained about taking care of his dad. At the end, the nurses had urged her to go home and get real sleep instead of staying in the recliner at his bedside all night long, but she’d shaken her head. _ There’ll be plenty of time for that after, _ she’d told them. 

“Our dads were so different.”

“They really were.” The whiskey was cheap but it left a pleasant burn when he swallowed it. “My parents were always so much older than everybody else’s. I was embarrassed by them for a long time. They dressed funny and people always thought my mom was my grandma.”

Dean smiled. “Sam asked that the day we met you. I mean, I was wondering it myself, but I wasn’t gonna ask.”

“I remember. And I remember thinking your mom was so young and pretty. And your dad was cool. He drove a cool car and he would play games with us.”

“It’s hard to believe our parents were friends.”

“Yeah, but that’s what happens in a neighborhood. You get to know people you never might otherwise. The proximity makes it easy. I mean...”

“What?” 

Cas took another sip of whiskey and decided he had nothing to lose. “We probably never would’ve been friends if we didn’t live on the same street.”

“What? That’s not true.”

Cas laughed. “Seriously? We had zero in common.”

“Just because you didn’t play sports?”

“Oh my God, Dean. Think about who your friends were.”

Dean rolled through a handful of names. “Baseball,” Cas said after each one.

“Yeah, but what about Charlie?” Dean jabbed a finger in Cas’s direction. 

“Charlie was our neighbor! You’re proving my point, you dumb jock.”

Dean blinked a few times. “Oh my God.You’re right. Hey, why _ are _ we friends?”

“Probably thought you were rid of me, huh? But here I am again.”

“Yeah, cause you drove across the country to find me, you stalker.” Dean’s eyes were merry, but Cas opened then closed his mouth again, any retort gone. “I’m glad you did.”

Cas picked up the empty plates and took them to the sink to give himself something to do. “It was weird of me to just show up here, I know it was. I apologize for that.”

A moment later Dean was at his side, a hand on his arm. “I’m serious. I’m glad you’re here.”

Cas hadn’t had that much whiskey, but he felt emboldened enough to say, “I don’t know what it was. Everything in my life felt so turned around and I decided finding you would help things make sense again.”

Dean’s gaze never wavered. “And has it?”

_ Yes. Without a doubt. I feel better than I have in years. _ Even with Dean looking at him with such sincerity, Cas couldn’t find the nerve. “It’s been really helpful to be with someone who understands.”

Dean nodded and dropped his hand. They cleaned up from dinner then relocated to the couch with the whiskey bottle, continuing to reminisce. 

“Remember when we found that frog in the creek and brought it back to Sam?”

“_ We? _” Cas raised an eyebrow. “You were afraid to touch it.”

“I wasn’t afraid.”

“When I touched your arm with it, you screamed.”

“Definitely don’t remember that. I_ do _however remember you dressing like a small businessman for picture day.”

“Oh my God, that was fifth grade. Let it go.”

“It was a _ suit _, Cas. With a tie and everything.”

“My mother used that picture in our Christmas cards that year.”

Dean tossed his head back and laughed. Cas couldn’t help grinning, seeing him so relaxed and happy. “You would’ve been cooler had you dressed like Santa.”

“Oh, sure, like I wouldn’t be hearing about_ that _ today.”

They talked about sleepouts in the tent in the Winchesters’ backyard where they had to play rock paper scissors to see who had to walk Sam back to the house in the dark when he inevitably got too scared. They talked about the Fourth of July parties, with the long, beautifully done up tables and all the neighbors arriving with their arms full of food. Cas mentioned a dessert Mary used to make, one with chocolate pudding and a graham cracker crust and tons of whipped cream. 

Dean’s face went soft. “I forgot about that. I can’t believe I forgot all about that.”

“It was so good.”

They sat in shared silence for a bit, loose from the whiskey and warm with memories. Under it all, though, Cas felt the need for Dean’s forgiveness, for judging him so harshly about that English test. Even though Dean had only hinted at his mom’s illness today, it felt like the right time. He took a deep breath. “Dean, I really need to apologize to you for—”

“Cas, no. There’s nothing you need to apologize for. If anything, I need to say sorry to you.”

That stopped Cas’s train of thought dead in its tracks. “To me?”

“Yeah. When we were in high school, I know you got picked on a lot. All those kids calling you gay all the time. I should’ve done more to stand up for you. But like, I cared more about them turning on me, and so—Cas, are you ok?”

This was it. There was no coming back from this. The alcohol had left Cas in such a state that he buried his head in his hands, shoulders shaking. 

“Cas?” Dean touched his shoulder lightly. “Cas, are you_ laughing? _”

It took Cas a minute to be able to speak. “Funny thing about that,” he said, even though there was not a goddamn thing about it that was funny. “I am gay.”

“What?”

If Dean was going to freak out, hopefully he’d let Cas sleep it off before he asked him to leave. But in all the ways Cas had considered coming out to his old best friend, he’d never imagined the opportunity being served up on a silver platter like this. “I’m gay, Dean. That was some really accurate bullying, as it turns out.”

“Ok, but. But you and Charlie…?”

“Charlie knew.”

“Charlie _ knew? _”

“Yeah.” Cas searched Dean’s perplexed face to try and figure out what he was thinking.”We, uh, thought it was the easiest way to keep other people from knowing.”

“All this time I just assumed…oh, we are calling her _ right now. _” Dean got to his feet, only wobbling slightly. He disappeared into the bedroom and came back with the cordless phone. 

Delighted, Cas reached for his wallet. “I have her number. Here, give it to me.” He carefully dialed, but Dean ripped the phone from his hands while it was still ringing and put it to his ear. 

“Hello?”

“Charlie!”

Charlie’s shriek was so loud that Cas could hear it. “Oh my God, Dean? Did Cas find you?” Cas moved closer, tugging at Dean’s arm until he angled the phone so they could both hear. 

“Charlie, I have just been informed that you and Cas have been lying to me _ for years. _”

Cas could almost see Charlie wrinkling up her nose as she considered that. “Damn right we did. We went to school with a bunch of homophobic assholes.”

“Charlie, you let me yell at you for breaking Cas’s heart.” Cas’s laugh came out as a snort, and Dean smacked him with his free hand. “How could you do this to me?”

“Oh sure, and what would you have done if we had told you? Think your dad would’ve still let you hang out with us?”

“Ok, well he was definitely a homophobic asshole.” 

“Maybe don’t think of it as lying so much as us protecting you.”

“I felt so left out and all this time it wasn’t even real.”

“You what?” Cas and Charlie said in unison. 

“I mean it had been all three of us for so long, and then it was like the two of you had each other.”

“You were never lacking for companionship,” Cas pointed out. “You started chasing girls and we decided we needed to do something so we wouldn’t stand out.”

“My entire life has been a lie,” Dean said with mock sorrow. 

“Are you guys drunk?”

“No,” Dean said at the same time Cas yelled, “Yes!” They laughed, collapsing into each other. 

“Ok, thanks for clearing that up,” Charlie said with a laugh. “Hey, since it’s honesty hour, anything else you want to get off your chest, Cas?”

Dean’s face was so close, and Cas was transported back to the day they said goodbye under the tree. Dean had that same look, eyes soft and lips gently parted as he tipped his chin up. When Cas licked his lips nervously, Dean’s eyes flicked down to his mouth before slowly dragging his gaze back up. 

Cas grabbed the phone. “We’ll call you tomorrow, Charlie.” He stabbed at the button to hang it up. Dean was still there, still right in his personal space. Cas waited a moment to see if he’d move back. When he didn’t, Cas kissed him. 

Cas was barely breathing as their lips met, waiting for Dean to jerk back or shove him away. But all Dean did was make the softest _ mmm _ and wrap an arm around Cas to keep him close. The blood in Cas’s veins felt carbonated, fizzing around, his entire being ticklish with glee. He grinned so broadly he had to stop kissing and when Dean saw that, his eyes lit up and he smiled back before moving in for another kiss. This time his tongue pressed for entrance and Cas opened his mouth, welcoming it. It wasn’t until he lifted a hand to cup Dean’s face that he realized he was still holding the phone and he dropped it without even looking to see where it landed. Dean kissed him hard, pressing against him, leaning into him until Cas lost his balance and tipped backwards, Dean sprawled out on top of him. 

“Excellent idea,” Dean murmured into Cas’s neck as he shifted position. 

After a lifetime of pining and dreaming and outright fantasizing, Dean Winchester was now stretched out on top of him, kissing him like his life depended on it. Damp, plush lips skimmed over his jaw while Dean’s calloused hand slid up under the sleeve of his shirt. When Cas found Dean’s mouth again, surging upwards so that their teeth clacked together before tongues resumed their slick slide, Dean’s hips rocked in a small, rhythmic motion that had Cas curling his fingers through Dean’s belt loops to pull him closer. 

They were reaching the point of no return. 

“Dean?”

“Hmm?” Dean said, lips brushing against Cas’s ear.

Heart pounding, Cas dove in. “Have you been with a guy before?”

“I...yeah.” He pulled away to look at Cas. “Not like this though.”

“What does that mean?”

“It was more...rushed.”

He didn’t have to say more. Cas had had his share of furtive, hasty encounters, some more ill-advised than others. There were always places men could get what they wanted without really having to ask for it. At least Cas didn’t have to worry about this particular form of regret in the morning. 

It was everything he’d ever wanted, the scenario he’d played out in his mind a million different times in a million different ways, but even as he tried to focus on Dean’s mouth and his hands, another part of his brain wouldn’t shut up. The one that kept pointing out that they were both drunk and that they hadn’t talked about this. Cas told the nagging voice in his head to take the night off, and threw himself instead into trying to catalog every moment, in case this was the first and last time. But that thought, the thought of this becoming something that happened, something that they never talked about again, had him pushing Dean off of him, and sitting up. 

Dean reached for him again, a hungry look in his eyes, but Cas grabbed his wrist. “Dean, wait.”

“What?” But he was leaning in again, trying to kiss Cas. 

Cas was too weak. What was he supposed to do when Dean was willing, desperate even. He kissed Dean back, but pulled away again, shaking his head. 

“Dean, I’m sorry. I can’t. Not like this.”

“Of course you can. It’s easy. It’s the easiest thing in the world.” He moved in once more and Cas scrambled to his feet. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. 

As he watched, Dean’s expression closed off completely. “You fucking started this.”

“I know. And I was wrong.”

“Jesus Christ, Cas. You show up here out of the blue. You drop all these fucking bombs and make a goddamn move on me and now this?” He wiped his hand across his mouth. “These are some fucking mixed messages.”

Cas felt everything inside him go cold as he tried to make Dean understand. “It’s not that I don’t want to. I want to. I’ve wanted to forever. It’s just...I want it to be right for both of us—”

“In case you don’t remember, I’m not the one who stopped.”

“No, I know. It’s just...we’re drunk. I don’t want something to happen that you’ll regret later. It’s all so fast and I know it’s not fair to you.”

Dean got up off the couch, angrily tugging his t-shirt straight as he stood. “What makes you think you get to decide what’s best for me?”

“I don’t mean it like that.” Cas tried to put words to what he meant, tried to find a way to tell Dean that this was too important to him to treat lightly. But the alcohol and the panic now churning inside him kept the right words out of his grasp. 

“Then what?”

“We should probably talk first.”

Dean took two quick strides toward him, and Cas forced himself to hold his ground as Dean jabbed a finger in his chest. “You show up here after all these years acting like we have some sort of bond, but you don’t know a goddamn thing about me.”

He turned and stomped into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him. Cas watched him go, then sat down heavily on the couch. His stomach lurched and he scrambled to his feet, staggering to the bathroom to see if his dinner was going to come back up. He stood, fingers gripping the cold, smooth edges of Dean’s sink, breathing slowly in through his nose until his stomach settled. He never should have come here, never should have inserted himself in Dean’s life in such a stupid, thoughtless way. Driving across the country unannounced was the most reckless thing he’d ever done, and the one thing he’d learned from the experience was that nothing good came of taking risks. 

He’d been trying to recapture something that had never existed, something he’d built up in his mind. If he thought he could safely drive away this minute he would. He considered gathering up his things and sleeping in his car, but even the thought exhausted him. He splashed some cold water on his face. Maybe he could straighten things out in the morning. Maybe once they were both sober, they could talk this out like the adults they now were. This entire trip was about wrapping up the loose ends of their last parting. Cas wasn’t about to add to them. 

Back in the living room, he shook out the blanket and tried to get comfortable on the couch. He didn’t regret stopping things when he did; it was the right thing to do. He shouldn’t have let things get that far to begin with. Hell, he never should’ve said yes to that whiskey in the first place. He let himself get caught up in the moment and it ended in the worst possible way: hurting Dean. 

He lay awake for a long time, tossing and turning, the couch narrow and uncomfortable. He wished he could talk to his mom, and he actually found himself letting out an audible snort at trying to explain this to her, but even if he could find the words that wouldn’t embarrass both of them, this wasn’t the sort of problem she could solve with a hot cup of tea or a batch of muffins. The hilarity drained out of him as fast as it had appeared, and a heavy sadness took its place, weighing him down. He missed his dad. It had been more than a month but he was hit anew with the realization that he would never talk to him again. He wiped an errant tear from his cheek, angry at feeling so sorry for himself when he’d at least had the chance to say goodbye. Whatever had happened with Mary, it seemed that she’d been ripped out of her sons’ lives. Cas couldn’t even fathom dealing with that sort of unexpected trauma. 

And now here he was pushing Dean away. Even if he had done it with Dean’s best intentions in mind, it had to feel like yet another person telling him he wasn’t worth it. 

When he did finally fall asleep, he awoke a short time later with a start. The apartment was silent, but Dean’s voice echoed in his ears nonetheless. He sat up, listening intently, and sure enough he heard Dean as he had the night before, calling out, his voice incoherent but clearly distressed. Cas stood and moved toward the bedroom, hesitating outside. Dean cried out again, a sharp, shrill sound that had Cas reaching for the knob, but he stopped, fingertips just grazing the door. There was no reason to think Dean would welcome him. In fact, it could easily be another inappropriate crossing of his boundaries. Cas stood there, frozen, listening, silently willing Dean to fall deeper asleep or wake completely, anything to stop those wounded sounds. When a particularly loud cry filled the room, he made up his mind and turned the knob, only to be startled by a loud banging from the other side of the room—someone in the next apartment was pounding on Dean’s wall. 

Through the crack of the door, Cas watched Dean jolt awake. “Shut the fuck up.” he yelled, his voice hoarse. He sat up, his back to Cas, and let his head fall into his hands. 

Silently, Cas closed the door again. When Dean came out to use the bathroom, Cas pretended to be asleep. 

Apparently he fell asleep for real because the next time he awoke, the sun was high in the sky. He woke slowly, stretching his arms lazily over his head until he pulled them back into his chest with a jerk, remembering what had transpired the night before. The apartment was silent, and it took him some time to work up the nerve to check Dean’s door. It was standing open, as was the bathroom. He was alone.

There was no note anywhere. Nothing to indicate when or if he’d be coming back. Maybe he’d gone out to get food. Maybe he had to go to work. Cas wracked his brain trying to remember what, if anything, Dean had said about his schedule today. 

Unsure of what to do, he took a shower. The cordless phone was still on the floor beside the couch and he took it into the bathroom with him, leaving it on the back of the toilet where he could grab it if it rang while he was showering. But the rest of the morning passed with no word. 

Cas alternately sat and paced. He could drive over to the diner and see if the Impala was there. He didn’t think he could find his way back to Bobby’s, though. Even if he could, what would that prove? He was there or he wasn’t. Either way, he hadn’t felt the need to inform Cas. Still, not knowing where Dean was left Cas unsettled, especially as he’d been so upset the day before. Making up his mind to at least go check the diner, he thought about leaving a note in case Dean came back while he was gone. He found a paper and pen but there was nothing he could think to write that didn’t somehow come out as an accusation. _ Out looking for you. Be back soon. See how easy that was? _

He remembered walking back into the apartment that first morning, finding Dean crouched and bereft, thinking Cas had left without saying goodbye, and he told himself to stop being petty. Instead of a note, he left the blanket covering the couch and some items of his clothing strewn about, his duffle in clear sight on the coffee table. Then he unlocked the door and went down to his car. 

The mid-afternoon sky was as clear a blue as he’d ever seen, a pure, clean shade that seemed to mock him with its relentless cheerfulness. He stalled a little, stopping to fill his tank with gas, then driving through a fast food place when he realized he hadn’t eaten all day. His fingers were shiny with grease from dipping them into the container of fries as he drove, and he wiped them on his jeans so that he’d have two hands free to make the sharp turn into the driveway to the diner. 

Sure enough, Dean’s car was parked out back. Cas drove slowly through the parking lot until he spied Dean at the register, talking and laughing with a female employee that he didn’t recognize. He looked like it was just any other day. 

For a moment, Cas thought about storming in there, and he took a moment to savor how Dean’s face would change if he showed up and demanded to talk to him. But his righteousness quickly abated when he remembered that he’d basically done exactly that a few days ago, his presence upending both of their lives. Instead, he drove back to Dean’s apartment building and sat in his car eating too-salty chicken nuggets. Chewing angrily, he considered his options. Cas had hoped to apologize, to try and work things out, but it was clear that Dean had no interest in that. He’d left today without a word to Cas, just walked out. It was the English test all over again. But Cas was no longer an adolescent, trying to keep his heart secretly hidden away. If that’s how Dean wanted things to be, Cas could play that game, too. 

For years he’d been letting Dean lead the way. He’d followed him around like a moth to a flame, drawn to him even though it was always bound to end in pain. Always forgiving him, always seeking him out. He’d somehow decided that it was Dean he needed to feel complete. Dean’s attention, Dean’s approval. In all that time, he’d never stopped to think that maybe while he’d spent all this time with thoughts of Dean simmering on the back burner, Dean had never given him a second thought. Sure, he seemed glad to see Cas, friendly and welcoming, but Cas could’ve been anybody from his past. Hell, Gabe could’ve shown up after years apart and he probably would’ve fit back into Dean’s life seamlessly. Cas had shown up with that stupid marble in his pocket and an even stupider crush in his heart, looking for something that Dean had no intention of giving him. Each memory Cas had treasured over the years turned out to be something Dean had worked actively to forget. Dean had told him as much when he talked about the way he’d left Kansas, only grabbing a few essentials and driving off, leaving the rest behind. 

Despite his mounting aggravation, he was even more glad that he’d put a stop to things last night. While Dean had clearly been looking for a good time, that experience would’ve been Cas’s undoing. It turned out the only thing worse than never getting to feel Dean’s hands on his skin or the press of his lips was getting it once and never again. 

He crumpled up the empty fast food bag and tossed it on the floor of the passenger seat. Now was the time to cut his losses. He’d pack his shit and get on the road, drive east to the Oregon border before Dean ever came home from work. It was time for him to go back to his real life. The one where he went to school and his father was dead. 

He walked the steps to Dean’s apartment one last time. He moved quickly around the apartment, the urgency in him building as his resolve took hold, and he shoved his things into his bag, only remembering at the last minute to grab his toothbrush from the bathroom. He folded the blanket, draping it over the back of the couch the way it had been when he first arrived. With his duffle slung over his shoulder, he carried the pillow back to Dean’s room. 

This trip had been a lark, a senseless journey borne out of grief. He could see it now. He didn’t know what he needed, but he was wrong to try and find it here. He stood in Dean’s bedroom, hugging the pillow to his chest. The room held no trace of the sorrow that haunted Dean’s dreams, in fact it held almost nothing of him besides the pictures propped up by the small box. Cas carefully replaced the pillow, then fell to his knees and buried his face in the blanket. He breathed in Dean’s scent one last time. Then he stood, eyes blinded by tears, and turned to leave. 

When he turned, his bag swung off his shoulder, effectively clearing the night stand. The photographs fluttered to the ground and the box hit the floor, opening as it did. 

“Shit,” Cas hissed, bending to retrieve the photos, praying the box hadn’t broken. Next to the lid was a ring he recognized, one with a small heart-shaped diamond. Mary’s engagement ring. He lifted the upturned box to replace the ring back inside and when he did, a marble rolled out. 

There was no doubt it was the same one. Clear blue with the telltale chip. He ran his thumb over it; the edge was less jagged now than it had been, like it had been smoothed by this exact motion over the years. Cleaning up the mess he made, Cas went back to the living room and dropped his bag on the couch.


	15. Chapter 15

Dean would have to come home sometime. Cas left the light on, staying awake as long as he could, trying to think of what he could say, knowing that no matter what else happened, he couldn’t leave without saying goodbye. Despite the adrenaline that coursed through him when he made the decision to stay, he couldn’t sustain it and, as the hours past midnight ticked away, he fell asleep. 

He didn’t wake when Dean came home. Not when he opened the front door or crossed the living room, passing Cas stretched out on the couch as he made for his bedroom. He didn’t wake until he heard Dean swearing loudly under his breath in the now-dark room, and the sound of the coffee table creaking as it was moved farther from the couch. When he finally got his bearings, he saw a silhouette in the dark, one that disappeared again from view. Pushing up on one elbow, he realized that Dean had made a bed for himself on the floor alongside the couch. 

If he realized Cas was awake, he didn’t acknowledge it, but Cas understood this for the reconciliation it was. There were no words he could come up with to convey what he meant, so instead, he reached down, finding Dean’s hand and pressing both marbles into his palm. With a sharp intake of breath, Dean curled his fingers closed. Cas kept his hand on Dean’s, but Dean didn’t pull away. 

“I thought you’d be gone,” Dean finally said. “I didn’t see your car and I just assumed…” 

Cas hadn’t even given a thought to the fact that he’d parked in a different spot when he came back. “I went out for a bit. Looking for you, actually.”

“I should’ve left a note or something.”

“I get why you didn’t, and, to be fair, I did almost leave.”

There was a long pause. “But then you went snooping?” Cas felt a curl of shame in his gut. There was no accusation in Dean’s voice, but he hurried to explain.

“It was an accident. I was putting your pillow back and my bag knocked everything off the table.”

Dean sat up. “I don’t know why I acted like I didn’t remember. That was shitty of me.”

Cas shrugged. “I get it. Sort of, anyhow.”

“You asked me what I was doing working at the diner.”

Cas knew he was still a little foggy with sleep, but that was not where he was expecting this conversation to go. “What?”

“The other night. You said I could’ve done anything and asked why I settled for working there.”

“That was none of my business. Your choices are your own and I didn’t mean to judge—“

“It’s the coffee.”

Cas went silent for a moment. “The coffee?”

“There’s always coffee brewing there, day and night.”

“Ok,” Cas said slowly, trying to keep up.

Dean scrubbed a hand over his face. “I knew what kind of a day it was going to be if I woke up and smelled coffee, because that meant my mom was well enough to get up and get things going. If I didn’t, well…she had plenty of good days, but some of the bad days were really, really bad.”

Cas never had to give his mother’s presence a second thought. He woke each morning knowing she’d be there with everything under control. A steadying force so constant that he took it for granted. He pictured Dean, still a child himself, on edge as he woke each morning to see what would be expected of him that day. “The day of the English test,” Cas said. 

“Yeah.” Dean’s head dropped. “She was crying so hard that morning. She knew I had the test which made it worse. But there was no way I could leave her like that.”

Cas leaned down toward him, and awkwardly pulled him close. “I’m sorry. I wish I had known.”

“Hardly anybody did. She didn’t want people to know. It was her biggest fear.” Dean buried his face in Cas’s shoulder. 

“I don’t know what I could’ve done, but at least you wouldn’t have had to carry the burden yourself.”

Dean’s voice was muffled when he spoke. “I liked that you didn’t know because at least I could pretend things were normal with you. You were pretty much the only person who didn’t need me to be anything else, anything  _ more _ .”

“Until that day at school.”

“I don’t blame you for that. I can imagine how it looked to you.”

“I’m sorry anyhow.” 

There was a long stretch of silence, nothing but the warm feel of Dean’s breath on his neck and his arm around Cas’s waist. Cas lightly ran his fingers through Dean’s hair. 

“I found her.” Cas’s hand stilled. “I’d spent the night with a girl and when I came back the next morning, the house was so quiet, and it was like I knew just from walking in the door.” He let out a small, bitter sound, more huff than laugh. “No coffee.” Cas resumed stroking Dean’s hair, not sure what to say. “I told people it was an accident but she left a note apologizing. I thought she’d been doing better, but I guess when Sam left…” His voice broke. “I couldn’t be enough for her.” 

Cas sat all the way up, tugging Dean up onto the couch to sit beside him so that he could embrace him properly. “I’m sorry.”

“I should’ve been there.”

“You had a right to a life of your own, Dean.”

“Oh yeah, that worked out great.”

“It wasn’t your job to save her.”

Dean pulled away from him. “Of course it was. Who else was going to do it?”

Cas thought back to the conversation he had with his mother, when all of this came to light. “My parents knew.”

“Yeah.” Dean’s tone softened again. “They were great. They did a lot that nobody really knew about, especially after my Dad decided they were part of the problem.”

“After I saw Charlie, I called my mom and told her what had happened. She was really upset...but she also had a bit of a different take on the timing.”

“What do you mean?”

“She said,” Cas began, then stopped, looking away. He didn’t know if he was overstepping, but it seemed like something Dean needed to hear. “She said your mom always said what kept her going was not wanting to leave you and Sam until you could take care of yourselves. Is it possible that Sam leaving wasn’t so much a loss to her as...an accomplishment?” 

Dean’s face crumpled. “I still needed her,” he whispered hoarsely. “I still need her.” He let Cas hold him as he cried. 

“I know,” Cas said softly. “I know.” Dean was tall and broad-shouldered, a full-grown man, but in his sobs, Cas felt the broken heart of a little boy. He murmured soft things as he tried to comfort him, feeling on the verge of tears himself. Dean hugged him back, the marbles still clenched in one fist.

Eventually, he sat back, wiping at his eyes. “Jesus, I haven’t told anybody other than Sam about this.”

“It means a lot that you would trust me with it.”

“Your house was like an oasis to me. That night my dad brought us there in the middle of the night...it was the first time she went to the hospital. I was so scared but your parents were so calm.” Cas remembered Dean crying, curled up on the sleeping bag. “It wasn’t the last time she went to the hospital but my dad decided we were old enough to stay at home by ourselves at that point. From my room, I could see the streetlight on the corner across from your house and I used to stare at it when I couldn’t sleep.” 

Anger and sorrow twisted together inside Cas. “You were kids.”

“I think that’s what saved Sam, in a way.”

“What do you mean?”

“He was so young when things first got bad. I don’t think he remembered her any other way. So it was just...normal for him.”

Cas thought about Dean taking the bus to walk Sam home from school. Thought of him making him chicken nuggets and being late himself so that he could make sure Sam was up and ready for school. “Plus, he had you.”

“She wasn’t a bad mom.”

Cas shook his head. “Of course not.”

Dean took a deep, shuddering breath. “The good days were really good, but sometimes I couldn’t enjoy them because I was always waiting for them to end. But I think we managed to do ok by Sam. My mom was so proud of him.”

“I have no doubt that she was proud of you, too.”

A single tear escaped and rolled down Dean’s cheek. “She wanted more for me, but I couldn’t leave her.”

Cas traced the tear with his thumb. “You’ve done so much for everyone else. Maybe now it’s your turn. What is it you want, Dean?”

Dean answered the question with a kiss. This time the kisses were soft and gentle, the frantic urgency of last night replaced by sweet, slow exploration. They kissed as if kissing were the destination, not the first step. They kissed like two people who had known each other for a long time, like people whose trust for each other was built on a solid foundation of shared experience. Cas no longer felt like it was something to be hoarded for a future drought. Instead it felt like a logical conclusion to a long and sometimes painful journey. Cas couldn’t stop himself from touching Dean’s face, fingertips on cheekbones, palms cupping warm skin. Dean held him tightly, his lips soft against Cas’s mouth, and jaw, and neck. They kissed until Dean pulled back, covering his mouth as he yawned. 

Cas leaned in and kissed the corner of his mouth. “You need to sleep.”

“Come with me?” Before Cas could reply, he added, “Just to sleep. I swear.”

When they stood, Dean handed Cas the marbles so he could gather up the pillow and blanket from the floor. They were warm from being held and Cas tucked them safely into his pocket. He followed Dean into the bedroom and soon they were stripped down to t-shirts and boxers, climbing into bed together. When Dean switched off the light, they found each other in the dark, curling up together. Dean molded into him like Cas’s arms were made for that exact purpose and Cas planted soft kisses to the top of his head even as Dean’s breathing slowed. Cas lay awake for a long time, feeling their hearts beat together. 

Cas woke again when Dean began to whimper, woke to find they had moved apart. He reached out for Dean, who thrashed under his touch at first, jerking away. “Please,” Dean said, the word wrenched out of him. “Please hurry.”

Cas tried again, wrapping an arm around his waist, and when he tolerated that, Cas slotted into place behind him. He could feel Dean’s heart pounding impossibly fast. “It’s okay, Dean. You’re okay.”

Dean gasped like he was surfacing through dark water, and then he flailed, turning to reach for Cas. “Cas?”

“I’m here.” 

Dean fell back asleep with both hands clutching Cas’s t-shirt.

In the morning, Cas woke slowly, warm and content, his chest pressed against Dean’s back. He wasn’t sure how Dean knew he was awake but after a long while Dean said, “Can I be honest with you?”

Cas’s blood ran cold at the words, but he realized Dean was stroking his thumb along Cas’s forearm, so he forced himself to breathe slowly. “That’s all I ask,” he said, into the back of Dean’s neck. 

“Part of me wants to get up and run out the door.” Cas swallowed hard but he didn’t say anything. “But there are two problems with that.” Dean turned in his arms until he was facing Cas. His face was puffy with sleep and there were pillow creases on his cheek, and Cas thought he’d never been more beautiful. His green eyes shone bright and clear. “One, this is my apartment.” Cas allowed himself a smile at that, one that Dean matched. “Two.” He absently reached up to smooth Cas’s hair. “I kinda want to know what comes next.”

“I know you have a life here,” Cas said. “I didn’t mean to come here and upend it. But I need you to know that this isn’t just a fling for me.” When Dean looked away, Cas touched his cheek with gentle reverence until Dean met his eyes again. “You mean so much to me. You always have. I’m committed to whatever you think can work.”

“I have some friends here and work...but I wouldn’t call it a life. This was never my destination so much as where I just stopped running.” He chewed his lip for a moment. “I can’t leave right away, but there’s nothing keeping me here, so if—”

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Come to Chicago. We’ll figure it out.”


	16. Chapter 16

By the time Cas left Oregon a week later, they’d formalized some plans and time frames. While Cas had entertained the thought of packing Dean and all his things into his car and driving back home, logistics got in the way. Dean had two jobs, a lease, and a car. Cas needed to find a new apartment that would accommodate the two of them. 

Also, Naomi had insisted Cas put her on speakerphone so she could address them both. 

“I’m so happy for the two of you. Truly, I am.” Dean and Cas exchanged small smiles as they waited for the inevitable _ but _. “I know the two of you are adults now, but this all happened very quickly and I want to be sure you aren’t rushing into anything. Castiel, there’s no point in you coming back to Chicago with Dean thrown over your shoulder like the spoils of war.”

Dean outright snorted, clapping his hand over his mouth. 

“_Mom,_ ” Castiel said, feeling himself turn mortifyingly red. “It’s not like that.” Dean tilted his head, pursing his lips in a gesture that clearly said _ it’s sort of like that _, and Cas reached over to smack his leg. 

So Cas drove off alone, with a line of hickies along his collarbone and promises to call Dean every day.

Despite the time they’d spent together catching up, there seemed to be a never ending supply of things to talk about. Cas went to class and did his homework and looked for a subletter for his current, shared apartment, and waited until Dean’s schedule aligned with his so they could talk. 

Their conversations always started with Dean checking in on Cas’s day. It warmed Cas the way he remembered every detail Cas shared, always asking how his quiz went or whether the guy he’d complained about was now pulling his weight for their group project. From there Cas got the status report on the engine rebuild Dean had been struggling with and the latest on the regulars at the diner. Once they’d thoroughly gone through their days, they moved to all sorts of topics.

“When did you know you were gay?” Dean asked one night. 

“I think at some level I always knew. But I was probably twelve when I realized I didn’t feel the way I thought I should. First I thought maybe I was what my mom called a late bloomer, but…”

“You never bloomed,” Dean finished, and they both laughed. “That must’ve been really hard, though.”

“Honestly, it was exhausting. I was so worried about slipping up, but at the same time, people were always giving me shit anyhow? Like, even before I was sure myself.”

“Those guys were assholes. Gabe especially. I’m sorry I never stood up to him.”

“You had enough on your plate,” Cas assured him. “I wonder whatever happened to him.”

“Well,” Dean started brightly. “I heard his dad got caught in a tax scandal and had to go to jail. Also, last time I saw him, Gabe had started losing his hair.”

Cas grinned. “It couldn’t have happened to a nicer person.” Dean laughed heartily at that. “I’m sure my mother would say that he had his own struggles and that’s why he was a bully, but I can’t find it in me to have much compassion.”

“Yeah, I don’t blame you.”

“What about you?”

“What about me what?”

Cas rolled his eyes. “When did you know you were into guys?”

“It took me quite a bit longer to realize and when I did, you were already gone. But once I did figure it out, a lot of things made sense.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, the way I always felt safe with you. Like I could be myself.” Cas could hear Dean moving around his kitchen as he fixed himself a snack before he had to leave for work. “I thought it was because we were such good friends, but when I discovered I was bi, I realized I’d had feelings for you that I hadn’t understood at the time.”

Cas sighed. “I doubt anything would’ve been different even if we’d both known back in high school, but it does feel like time wasted.”

“Yeah.” Dean must’ve taken a large bite of whatever he’d made because the next thing he said was around a mouthful of food. “I’m so glad not to be a teenager anymore.”

“We’re so much older and wiser now,” Cas agreed.

*

“So where were you on September 11th?” Dean asked on another night. 

Cas shook his head even though Dean couldn’t see. “I was walking to an early class. I saw some people clustered around a television in the student union but I didn’t think too much about it and I kept on walking. Then I saw people running toward it, so I turned around. The crowd kept growing and we all just stood there in stunned silence.” Cas remembered it all so clearly. “None of it felt real. I watched the second tower fall and then I walked over to the row of payphones. There was a line to use them and I could’ve walked back to my apartment in less time than it took me to wait, but I didn’t. I stood there and waited and then I called my mom, and you know what I said?”

“What?”

“‘Can you come get me?’ I was a grown man asking my mom to come pick me up from school. But nothing else made sense for me to do. And I stood inside the building because I was afraid something might fall out of the sky if I waited at the curb.” He stopped, remembering the chaos, that feeling that nowhere was safe. “New York, D.C., why wouldn’t Chicago be next? Anyhow, she and my dad came and we went home and sat there, glued to the television. ‘I’m glad to have all my chicks in the nest,’ my mom said. I don’t know why that stuck with me, but it did. We sat and we watched and then she got up and started making muffins.”

Dean laughed softly. “Of course she did.”

“What about you?”

“Well, I’d worked late the night before so I was home sleeping, but I woke up because my phone kept ringing and honestly I was pissed as fuck so I yelled ‘What?’ into the phone. It was Sam and he just said, ‘Turn on the tv.’ And I did.” He paused and Cas held the phone a little tighter and listened to him breathe. “Eventually I knew I couldn’t sit there watching by myself any longer so even though I wasn’t scheduled, I went to the diner to help out. The whole thing was surreal.”

“It really was.”

“And it seemed like everyone had that same thought you did, worrying about what was gonna happen next, but the only thing that kept going through my head was ‘I’m glad my mom didn’t have to see this.’” Cas made a soft sound and they sat in silence for a bit before Dean started up again. “My dad actually got ahold of Sam that day. Said he just wanted to check in. Sam knew better than to give him my number but…I guess the fiery end of the world was what it took for him to call.”

“That sucks,” Cas said, although it hardly seemed enough. 

“I, uh, I called your old number that night. I knew it wouldn’t work, but I dialed the number anyhow.”

Cas felt a hitch in his chest at him sitting safe in his nest with muffins fresh from the oven while Dean reached out to ghosts, both alive and dead.

“That day is part of why I decided to go back to Kansas,” Cas admitted softly. “It seemed like we’d scarcely gotten our bearings after that when my dad got diagnosed.” He took a deep breath and finally said something he’d been meaning to since they reunited. “I’m sorry I didn’t write to you.” He hurried on before Dean could respond. “Let me rephrase that because I did write to you. Twice, actually. But I’m sorry I never sent the letters.”

Barely above a whisper, Dean said, “When you didn’t, I figured that was that.” 

“I’m so sorry.”

“But you did write?” The hopefulness in Dean’s voice sent another pang through Cas. 

“Yeah. The first letter I started while we were still in the car, leaving Kansas. It was pages and pages of teenage angst, me pouring out my heart, not knowing if I’d ever see you again.”

Dean laughed and Cas felt some of the guilt he’d carried over the years start to dissipate. “I would’ve liked to see that.”

“You say that now, but imagine if you’d gotten it at the time. I knew it was too much to dump on you so I tried again. This one was all ‘How are classes going?’ and ‘How’s Sam?’ and I just couldn’t go back to that.” He sighed. “I took the coward’s way out.”

“You were seventeen.”

“Yeah.”

“Besides,” Dean said, his tone brightening. “You basically mailed yourself across the country to talk to me in person, so I’d say we’re good.” 

*

Not every call was like that, though.

“Hello, Dean.” If the pause the followed wasn’t enough to alert him that something was off, the clipped _ hey _ he got in response definitely was. “Is this a bad time?”

“I don’t know. No.”

Cas had been lounging on his bed, but something about this had him sitting up again, alert. “How was your day?” 

“It was…” Dean sighed. “Cas, what are we doing?”

It had been nearly a month since Cas left Oregon, and still a few weeks until he would fly out there to drive back with him. “Dean, what’s going on?”

“I’m sitting here looking at my shitty apartment and I don’t think you know what you’re getting yourself into.”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t you remember how many times I pissed you off when we were growing up? How many time I let you down?”

“No,” Cas replied honestly. “Sure we had some ups and downs, but—”

“I didn’t need you to come out here and save me like I was a...a damsel in distress or something.”

“I came out there because I wanted to see you. I had no idea what I’d find...for all I knew you had a girlfriend or...had started a family of your own.”

Dean made a scoffing sound. “Hardly.” Cas didn’t know what to say to that so he stayed silent, sure Dean could hear his pulse thundering in his ears. “I don’t know if I can be what you want.”

Cas worked to keep his tone from betraying the utter bafflement he felt. “What is it you think I expect from you?”

“I’m still gonna be a fuck up in Chicago. A high school dropout who ran from my every responsibility. You can’t fix me, Cas.”

“Fixing you implies there’s something wrong with you.”

“Don’t act like there isn’t.” 

“Dean,” he ventured slowly, “the only thing I’m asking you to change is your location.”

“You say that now.”

Cas tamped down the panic surging through him and trying to claw out of his chest. “It sounds like you’re having second thoughts.”

“You fucking think?” The sharpness of his tone made Cas nearly flinch, but when Dean spoke again, his voice was muffled, like maybe his face was in his hands. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok,” Cas said automatically, even though he wasn’t sure where anything stood at this point. A silence stretched out cold and heavy between them. 

“I just...I don’t want you to regret this. I don’t want you to think you’re getting somebody you knew a long time ago and then you find yourself stuck with _ me. _”

“I’ve got some bad news for you.”

Dean let out a soft groan. “Of course you do.”

“They’re all versions of you and you know what?”

“What?”

“I love all of them because...” He took a deep breath. “I love you, Dean.”

“Fuck,” Dean said softly. “How did we go from me being an asshole to this?”

“Look, if you need more time, if this is too much too soon then I under—”

“Cas.”

“Yes?”

“I love you, too.”

“Okay.” Cas grinned at the wall of his room. “Okay, I think we can work with that.”


	17. Chapter 17

Cas landed in Portland on the last Saturday of June. A misty rain greeted the plane on the tarmac and Dean greeted him just past security. Mindful of the crowd, Cas dropped his bag and hugged him tightly. “You didn’t have to park and come in,” he said. They’d talked about Cas finding him in the pick-up lane outside. 

Dean smiled and shrugged, then bent to pick up Cas’s bag. “I made good time.” They walked together, shoulders bumping. Cas felt the exhaustion of the early start mix with the giddiness of being with Dean again. He wanted to take Dean’s hand, pull him into the nearest corner and kiss him senseless, but despite the many conversations they’d had over the past six weeks, that wasn’t one of them. The minute they got into the Impala, though, Dean reached for him, kissing him hard, then backing off. 

“Tell me,” he said softly, eyes shining. 

Cas took his face in both hands, they way he’d always intended to the first time he said it. “I love you.” Dean smiled broadly and tried to duck his head away. “No way. I’m here and I love you and you have to deal with it.” 

Dean leaned forward until their foreheads were touching. “I love you, too.” His breath was sweet on Cas’s skin and his lips were even sweeter. 

With the trunk full, Cas’s bag sat in the back seat alongside a few additional boxes. Cas glanced over his shoulder as Dean pulled onto the highway. “You had room for everything?”

“And then some. I didn’t have much to start with and like I said, I gave away what I didn’t need to bring.”

He’d talked to Dean last night, so he’d heard about the goodbyes he’d said to Bobby and Benny and a few others. He’d listened for any hint of regret in his voice, but he’d only heard excitement. Especially because the first leg of their trip wasn’t heading back east. Instead they were heading south, a nearly 700 mile straight shot down to Stanford to see Sam. 

As they drove, chatting and catching up, Dean held Cas’s hand as much as possible. When he needed two hands to drive, Cas rested his hand on Dean’s knee, or rubbed the back of his neck, wanting nothing more than to keep them physically connected at all times after the weeks apart. 

The landscape changed as they drove, the urban setting of Portland giving way to wide open valley views, with the Cascades on one side and the coastal range on the other. Even the rain couldn’t diminish the breathtaking scenery. “It’s so beautiful here.”

“Isn’t it?” But Dean looked at Cas so long that Cas had to remind him to keep his eyes on the road. 

Despite the reassurance of Dean beside him, Cas felt a little bit of niggling doubt at the sea change he was affecting in Dean’s life. “You don’t get views like this in Chicago.”

Dean squeezed his hand a little tighter. “I’m happy looking at a dumpster if I get to share it with you.”

“I think you’ll be happy with the place I chose.” It was the seventh place he’d looked at and, while it was smaller than some of the others and less thoroughly updated, he knew it was the one right away. He’d described the inside to Dean, even borrowing a friend’s digital camera to take some pictures to email to him. 

“I know I will.” He was quiet for a long moment. “When I left Kansas, I threw my shit in the car and I drove. I just wanted to get away from everything and everyone I knew. I drove west but I didn’t want to lay any more shit on Sam so I steered clear of California.” None of this was news to Cas, but he listened patiently. “I thought I was being so smart. Like I was going to go be the real Dean Winchester I never got to be.” He huffed out a laugh. “I wasn’t starting fresh; I was putting my life on hold and I didn’t even realize it until you showed up.”

Cas smiled at him, then let go of his hand long enough to deploy air quotes. “‘Showed up.’ Do you mean when I came bumbling into your place of employment in the middle of the night?”

“I thought I was dreaming. My brain could not wrap around the fact that you were there.”

“I couldn’t believe you were there at the very first place I pulled in. That had to be a sign.” 

Dean threw back his head and laughed. “Yeah, the one that said _ Open Twenty-Four Hours. _ ”

It was easy to be together with the Impala running smoothly mile after mile, the clouds breaking to blue sky as they travelled south. They listened to music and talked or sat quietly, content simply to be in each other’s presence. Cas dozed off for awhile, waking to find Dean had stopped at a fast food place. 

“Mornin’, sunshine.” 

“It’s definitely not the morning,” Cas said, his stomach rumbling loudly. “Where are we?”

“Redding. About another four hours to go.”

Cas stretched in his seat, aware of Dean’s eyes on him. “Do you want me to drive for a bit?”

Cas had often heard the word ‘scandalized’ but he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen it in action until that moment. “Absolutely not. I just need to eat and piss and we’ll get back on the road.”

He got out of the car, Dean following as they walked to the door of the restaurant. When they got to the counter, Dean ordered for himself, then gestured magnanimously to Cas. “And whatever he’s having.”

Cas raised an amused eyebrow at him while the cashier looked on, bored out of her mind. “In that case I’m splurging on a milkshake.”

They sat across from each other in a booth, feet tangled together under the table. Cas unwrapped his food and said, “You are not driving us all the way from California to Chicago.”

“Says you.”

“Dean, that’s ridiculous.”

Dean leaned forward, jabbing a handful of french fries at Cas. “How do I know this whole thing isn’t a ruse for you to drive my car?”

“This whole thing.”

“Yes.”

“Our relationship.”

“Yes.”

Cas took a long drink of his shake, slowly licking his lips afterwards. “Dean,” he said, to get Dean to shift his attention from his mouth to his eyes. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

Dean shifted in his seat, then stuffed the fries into his mouth. “We’ll see,” he mumbled as he chewed. 

Smiling, Cas took a bite of his burger. 

By the time they got to Sam’s, Dean had grown quiet, more so than simply from the late hour. As excited as he’d been to see his brother, when they parked he stayed seated in the car, his hands resting on the wheel. 

Taking off his seatbelt, Cas turned in his seat to face him. “You okay?” 

“Our visits since mom died...they haven’t been great. I told you we didn’t have a funeral.”

“You did.”

“I said it was what she wanted, but I have no idea if that was true. I didn’t want Sam to turn back around and come home right when school had started. He worked so hard to get there and I was trying to keep things normal for him but…” He rubbed at his face. “It wasn’t up to me to decide that.”

Cas took his hand. “Have you ever told him that?”

Dean made a soft scoffing sound. “Have you met me?”

“Okay, but he invited us down here, right? It was his idea?”

“Yeah.”

“If you’re ready to say it, maybe he’s ready to hear it.”

They made their way to Sam’s apartment, Dean stopping to take a deep breath before knocking on his door. Sam was there almost immediately, tall, skinny, and with his long hair hanging in his eyes. He grinned at Cas over Dean’s shoulder as they hugged, then pulled him in for a crushing bear hug of his own. 

“I’m so glad you guys are here. Are you hungry? Cas, you flew out this morning? You must be exhausted.” Sam talked non-stop as he led them into his tiny apartment. 

“We ate,” Dean assured him, turning to check with Cas. 

“I’m good.”

Sam beamed at them. “So, you two, huh?”

Cas glanced at Dean and watched as a blush spread across his cheeks before he answered. “Uh yeah. Hope it doesn’t weird you out or anything.”

“Why would it?”

Dean rubbed at the back of his neck. “It’s just...not what I expected, so I get that you might not have either.”

Sam looked at his brother. “Are you happy?”

Dean looked at Cas, who found he was holding his breath. He slung an arm around Cas’s waist. “Yeah.”

“That’s all that matters to me.”

Dean relaxed noticeably after that and they all spent some time catching up. Sam had a lot of questions for Cas about his graduate program, and they held a lengthy discussion about the classes Sam had taken so far and what he still needed before he could apply to law school. Dean watched them happily, fondly calling them both nerds as he wandered around the living room. 

“This place looks nicer,” he observed during a break in the conversation. “Like you actually live here now.”

It was Sam’s turn to blush. “Oh, uh, I’ve had some help with that.”

“What kind of help?” 

“There’s this girl I’m kinda seeing...not sure if I mentioned her but—”

“Jess?” Cas said with faux innocence.

Sam whirled to face him. “What? How did—Dean?”

“You mentioned her all right. About a million times. So what does ‘kinda seeing’ mean?” 

Cas grinned as Dean folded his arms across his chest into went into full-on big brother mode. Then his grin turned into a yawn. 

Dean stopped interrogating Sam. “Oh shit, Cas, you must be tired.”

“I’ll sleep out here,” Sam said. “So you guys can have the bed.”

“You don’t have to do that.” Dean looked pained. 

“It’s just for a couple of nights. And I know you two have been apart for awhile and—”

“Stop right there, Sam. Not another word.” 

Instantly transported back across the years, Cas had to laugh. He got to his feet and picked up his bag. “I appreciate it, Sam.” 

“I’ll show you where everything is,” Sam said, picking up Dean’s bag for him. 

Dean jerked a thumb towards the door. “I left something in the car. I’ll be right back.”

Alone with Sam, Cas felt the need to explain. “I’m sure much of this seems sudden to you, but he and I have talked a lot about it and it’s something we both want.”

Sam considered for a few moments. “I mean, yes, in some ways it’s sudden, but...you know him. Even if you weren’t in touch for years, I trust that he’s being honest with you. He closed himself off for so long. Even though he was only one state away, in a lot of ways I didn’t feel any closer to him, but now?” Sam outright laughed. “I wish you could’ve heard when he called to tell me.” 

Cas couldn’t help but smile. “I can only imagine.”

“He sounded like himself again. For the first time in a long time. And I was on board at that very moment.”

“Look, neither of us believe in fairy tale endings and we know there’s a lot of work to be done, but we’re both in. Completely.”

Sam’s face softened. “I worried there’d never be a ‘we’ where Dean was concerned. He was so busy taking care of everybody else that I didn’t think he’d let himself—” He cut off when the door opened to reveal Dean with a large cardboard box. 

“I found this at the house,” he began, not quite making eye contact. “Mom saved everything. From the Mother’s Day card you made her in kindergarten to your Stanford acceptance letter and everything in between.” 

As Cas watched, Sam’s mouth trembled, his eyes filling with tears. He looked every bit the little boy he had been, with his face open and unguarded. 

Dean crossed to the couch and sat down with the box. “I thought you’d like to have it. She was so proud of you.” His voice cracked and he cleared his throat. 

Sam sat on the couch and laid his hand on the top of the box. “Thank you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. 

Cas stepped forward to plant a quick kiss on the top of Dean’s head. “I’ll leave you two to it.” 

From Sam’s bedroom, he could hear them talking, soft murmuring, punctuated by occasional laughter. He thought of Dean, so quick to deny himself, with walls as big as mountain ranges keeping the past at bay. That box was an offering on so many different levels and it was clear that Sam appreciated it for what it was. Sam was as earnest and sunny as ever, he had a sweet openness that Cas knew was partially thanks to Dean. It took Dean putting his own life on the back burner for Sam to have stability growing up, giving him this chance to succeed. Whatever concerns Dean had before they arrived, it sounded like Sam wasn’t holding any grudges. Cas drifted off, listening to them laugh. 

He woke when Dean got into the bed. Cas fumbled to reach for him. “Hey.”

“Shh, go back to sleep.”

Cas snuggled against him. “Everything good?”

“Yeah,” Dean said, and Cas felt him smiling against his skin. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.” They’d talked plenty about what they wanted to do to each other when they reunited, but it turned out none of it could compare to simply holding each other. 

For the first time since they’d shared a bed, Dean didn’t have any nightmares. 

They spent the day with Sam showing them around campus and, after a lot of cajoling from his big brother, even meeting Jess. Sam was clearly more nervous than she was, especially considering that Dean and Cas both liked her immediately. She was smart and self-possessed, and It was obvious how much she cared for Sam. The puppy dog eyes he made as soon as she arrived had Dean laughing with delight. 

“You got it bad,” he told Sam, and the hair falling in his face couldn’t hide his blush. 

“You’re one to talk,” Sam shot back, but Dean just gave him a shit-eating grin and slapped Cas on the ass. 

“You didn’t want her to meet the more attractive brother. Now it makes sense.”

Jess looped an arm through Cas’s as they walked. “Have they always been like this?”

“The stories I could tell...” 

“Hey,” Sam and Dean said in unison. 

Jess turned to give Sam a dazzling smile. “I think I’m going to learn a lot today.”

By the end of the day, Cas and Jess had exchanged email addresses and there was already talk about them coming to Chicago for the holidays. After saying goodbye to her, Dean and Cas waited on the corner while Sam walked Jess to her door.

“I like her,” Dean said. 

“They seem really good for each other,” Cas agreed. 

“I’m still gonna give Sam shit.”

“I’m pretty sure he’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”

Sure enough, Dean made kissy sounds when Sam approached. “Oh my God, are you twelve?” he said, but he was grinning nonetheless. 

“Well, you’ve got her fooled. Enjoy it while it lasts. You haven’t taken her out for Mexican food, have you?”

“ _ Dean. _ Jesus Christ, that was one time.”

Dean gave his shoulder a shove. “And it’s my job to make sure you never forget it.”

Sam shoved Dean back and they all started the walk back to his place. It felt good to walk, especially considering the next few days were going to be spent driving. 

“Seriously, though,” Dean said, as they climbed the stairs to Sam’s door. “Hang on to her. Somebody’s gotta keep you in line when I’m across the country.”

“Not like you’ve been doing a lot of that from Oregon,” Sam said lightly, fishing out his keys. 

“No,” Dean said, and the mood changed. “Look, I’m sorry about that.”

“You don’t need to apologize.”

“I do, though. Because I should have been there for you and now...now, I’m gonna be gone again.” 

Inside, Sam turned to face his brother. “Dean, I don’t need you to take care of me. It took me a long time to realize what you did for me when we were kids, and I appreciate it more than you will ever know, but I’m ok.”

Cas tried to unobtrusively give them space to talk, but Dean caught him by the wrist, keeping him close. “I’m sorry that I didn’t give you a chance to come back home one last time. That you left for school and never had a place to come home to. You deserved better than that.”

Sam pushed his hair back behind his ears. “Honestly? Part of me was relieved. I feel terrible saying it but when mom died it was like I was...numb. It sounds so selfish but that was easier. If I’d come home, I don’t know that I could’ve left again.”

“I get that. I do. But I shouldn’t have made that decision for you.” Dean took in a deep breath. “I know we were talking about Christmas, but I want you to know that wherever Cas and I are, you’re welcome there. Any time. For as long as you like.”

Cas took Dean’s hand. “There’s always room for you, Sam.”

Sam blinked hard, rubbing at one eye with the heel of his hand. “If I’d known there’d be so many goddamn emotions, I never would’ve invited you here.”

“I blame Cas,” Dean said. “Pretty sure he brought all these feelings with him.”

They left early the next morning, long days of driving ahead of them. Dean was quiet at first, but it didn’t take long for him to blow out a long breath and take Cas’s hand. “How are you doing?”

“I’m good. You?”

“We’re really doing this,” Dean said, grinning. 

“We are.” Cas watched the traffic for a little while. “My twelve-year-old self would never have believed this day would come.”

Dean raised his eyebrows. “Twelve? Really?”

“Yeah. Something changed that day I pulled you out of the creek.”

Dean gave him his best smolder. “Was it my wet t-shirt?”

Laughing, Cas said, “That must’ve been it.” He sighed. “I spent so much time trying to hide it. I think that’s part of why I didn’t realize what you were going through. I was too focused on myself.”

“We were kids. That’s what kids do. Anyhow, it might’ve taken awhile, but you have me now.”

“I do,” Cas said. 

“ _ And _ ,” Dean said. “Tonight we aren’t sharing a wall with my brother.”

Cas moved their joined hands to Dean’s thigh. “First my mother, then Sam…”

Dean nodded toward the sign announcing an upcoming exit. “It would be bad to pull off here, right?”

“If we stopped every time I wanted to jump you, I’d have to drop out of school.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

They were still in California when Dean found a place to stop and get coffee. “Here,” he said as they walked back to the car, cups in hand. He was holding out the keys. 

Cas stopped dead in his tracks. “Are you serious?”

Dean settled himself in the passenger seat while Cas got comfortable behind the wheel. He turned the key and felt the engine roar to life. Dean patted the dashboard affectionately. 

Cas leaned over to kiss him. “If you hadn’t already told me you loved me, this is the moment I would’ve known.”

It wasn’t the most direct route to Illinois, but they’d chosen that on purpose with specific detours in mind. After a second full day of driving, they spent the night just outside Wichita, and Dean was up before the sun, pacing quietly around the motel room, doing his best to let Cas sleep. Cas sat up, the covers pooling around his hips. 

“Sorry,” Dean said, whispering even though Cas was awake.

Cas held out an arm and Dean came to sit on the edge of the bed, molding into him. Cas held him silently, letting his cheek rest on Dean’s shoulder. “Ready?”

“No,” Dean admitted, “but let’s do this anyhow.”

Less than an hour later, they were driving down the familiar streets of their childhood. They meandered around a bit, like Cas had done a few months earlier, Dean working his way up to visiting their old street. When they finally did, Dean could barely glance at his old house but he slowed to a stop outside of Cas’s, taking in the view where the woods used to be. He was coiled and tense, the muscle in his jaw twitching. 

“Those houses are ugly as shit,” he finally said. Then he rolled down the window and yelled it before speeding away on the paved (dirt) road. Cas laughed until he had to wipe tears from his face.

The tension broken, Dean drove them to their final Kansas destination, steering carefully along the narrow entrance to the cemetery to pull into the empty gravel parking area. When Dean took off his seatbelt, Cas sat unmoving, not sure what Dean wanted him to do. Dean got out of the car, then turned back to look into the open door. “You coming?”

“Of course.” Cas hurried to join him. Despite being July, the morning was chilly, the sun still casting long shadows as they walked side by side across the dew-damp grass. 

Dean led them to small, plain headstone at the end of a row. Mary’s name and the years of her birth and death were engraved in grey stone. Cas hung back a little, giving Dean his space. Dean knelt down, brushing some twigs off of the headstone, before leaving his hand to rest on top of it. He stayed there for a long while, letting his head hang down, the world around them silent other than the early morning birdsong. When he finally drew his hand away, straightening his shoulders before getting to his feet, he was pale, but his eyes were dry. The knees of his jeans were damp and bits of grass clung to them, but he didn’t seem to notice. He didn’t speak as they drove away, his hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel, but Cas knew by now to give him the time he needed. 

Sure enough, as they found their way back to the highway that would take them on the final leg of their trip, his posture slowly relaxed. He glanced over at Cas a couple of times before he spoke. 

“When you first showed up in Oregon, and you blurted out about how your dad died...I was jealous.” Cas turned to look at him, and Dean shook his head a little bit, like he knew he wasn’t making sense. “Jealous because you seemed so sad. And sad is how you’re supposed to feel when somebody dies. I...when my mom died—when she  _ killed herself _ , everything felt so...fucking complicated. Like, I couldn’t just be sad because every fucking day I’d go from sad to angry to guilty. Did I not do enough? Should I have pushed her to do more? Did anything I do even make a difference? Like, you talk about your dad and I can tell how much you miss him and there’s something almost pure about what you feel.” He stopped, his mouth pressed thin. “I’m sorry, I know it’s not a contest. I don’t mean to make it sound like what you’re going through isn’t awful.”

“No, I know. And you’re right. When I think about my dad, it’s...not easy, but I don’t go through what you’re talking about. It’s deep and it hurts like hell and it creeps up on me sometimes when I least expect it, but it’s not like what you’re describing.” They drove in silence for awhile, their hands meeting somewhere in the middle. “I don’t know what the answer is,” Cas said eventually. “But you’re not hiding from it anymore and that can only be a good thing.”

Dean sighed, but he squeezed Cas’s hand. “It was a hell of a lot easier not to deal with it. Okay,  _ fine, _ ” he added before Cas could speak. “No life, no sleep, nightmares. I was punishing myself, and you know what?”

“What?”

“She wouldn’t want that.”

It was just past dinner time when they got to Naomi’s house. The day had turned hot and muggy and the setting sun did little to bring any relief from the heat. Nonetheless, she stepped outside to meet them, alerted by the unmistakable sound of the Impala pulling in. 

She smiled warmly at Cas but crossed past him, letting Dean take her hand to help her step from the curb. She reached for him and wrapped him into a hug, holding him close. If Dean was surprised by her greeting, it didn’t last long and he readily engulfed her in his big arms. Cas shoved his hands in his pockets, feeling the marble, knowing its mate was in Dean’s pocket. As he watched, Dean inclined his head to hear whatever it was Naomi was saying to him, nodding as she spoke, his eyes darting to Cas at one point before smiling at Naomi. 

“I won’t have you two plotting against me,” Cas called. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Castiel,” Naomi assured him as they walked back around the car. 

“Oh, do you have time to hug me now?” She was thin, but Cas could feel the strength in her embrace, and when she let go of him, she put a hand to his face and scrutinized him.

“Are those hickies, dear?” she asked, watching him blush with barely contained glee.

“Oh my God, I’m going inside now.”

“Good. I’ve been cooking all day.”

They’d been living in their own little world as they crossed the country, so focused on each other and the journey that Cas almost forgot what day it was, but the sound of firecrackers popping off in the distance left no doubt in his mind. Inside, Naomi had a full holiday meal waiting for them: burgers, baked beans, potato salad, and watermelon. She beamed at them as they ate, urging second and thirds, and it had been a long time since Cas saw her so happy. By the time she brought out the blueberry pie, the top crust decorated with star-shaped cut outs, Cas couldn’t manage another bite. 

“I’ll pack it all up for you to take,” she said. 

“Mom, we’ll be back tomorrow to get more of my things.” The apartment held the bare minimum right now. 

“We could definitely take  _ some, _ though,” Dean suggested, and she hurried to wrap it up for them. 

It was only a twenty minute drive to their new place, but Naomi loaded them up like they were on a hiking expedition to the Arctic. Cas watched Dean’s face as they approached the building, a duplex with their apartment on the upper floor. 

“This is nice,” Dean said, taking in the well-kept neighborhood. Unlocking the front door, Cas showed him around. Dean ran his hands along the countertops in the small but nicely appointed kitchen, and smiled at the mattress on the floor in the bedroom. 

“I told you I knew it was the one when I saw it.”

“Yeah, it’s great.”

Cas smiled at him. “Let me show you why.” He led Dean to the living room and opened the door to the small balcony. It was cooler here, shaded as it was by the large white oak tree that grew in the back of the building. Cas watched Dean’s face, watched as he took it all in, watched as he saw it and understood. There were branches within arm's reach of the balcony, and Dean plucked a leaf from a branch, turning it in his hands. 

“It’s perfect,” he said, pulling Cas in for a long kiss. A boom startled them apart and Cas opened his eyes to see the sky bursting with silver and green and purple as fireworks lit it up. They stood arm in arm, the lights shimmering on their upturned faces. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. In many ways, this is the most personal story I have ever written. The setting is based on my own childhood growing up in rural western Pennsylvania. We climbed trees (mine was a willow, not an oak), hung out at the baseball field, and rode our bikes to the corner store. We had neighborhood Fourth of July parties. Like Cas, I had the experience of coming back for a visit and finding the climbing tree cut down. And while the circumstances differed greatly, I also lost a parent to suicide. 
> 
> In this fic, Cas questions whether he and Dean would have been friends if they weren't already neighbors. Fandoms, like neighborhoods, bring people into your life that you might never connect with otherwise. Thanks to the Supernatural fandom, I have gotten to know so many wonderful people. They started as relationships based on a shared interest in a television show, but have grown into deep and lasting friendships. My life is better for it. 
> 
> One last thing. This is the closest I can find to the chocolate pudding dessert my neighbor's mom used to make: https://www.thespruceeats.com/chocolate-delight-dessert-3053473
> 
> I am [scones-and-texting-and-murder](http://scones-and-texting-and-murder.tumblr.com/) on tumblr and [violethaze_ao3](https://twitter.com/ViolethazeA) on twitter.


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